Twice Upon A Time
by L 0 K I
Summary: J/S. Chance, or destiny dressed by chance---Either way, Sarah and Jareth face each other again.
1. A Prince So Fair

hi all

hi all! okay, this is not my first laby fic---it is, however, the first one I'm posting. it starts out a little odd, but it gets better. at least, I hope it does! ^_^ let me know what you think!

Title: Twice Upon A Time

Author: Loki

Rating: R, mostly for language. 

Archive: if you want it, ask. I'm not in the habit of saying no. ^_^

Disclaimer: all standard ones apply.

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Prologue: A Prince So Fair

"There once was a mortal girl. A girl, no more. She was born in a land of partial myths and deceptions. But it taught her much, and she was better because of it."

"She was . . .mortal? Without magic and dreams?"

"Oh no! She had dreams. She ruled over a world of dreams. And her magic sparkled there. But she was nothing like you and I, mind you. Her magic was here," she traced a light circle on the little boy's breast, directly over his heart.

"Could she weave nets out of moonlight?"

"Well, no."

"Could she steal a ride from Gauvin du Jura?" the younger of the two, a girl with silvery blonde ringlets falling over her slight shoulders, piped in.

Her mother chuckled softly, tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Now, Maja, you know that no one has ever ridden Gauvin du Jura."

Auberon placed his small hands on his hips and raised his chin in an almost perfect imitation of his father. "Papa did!"

She smiled very small, gathered the boy into her lap and began combing her long fingers through his baby-fine locks. It was no use answering the challenge that sparked in his expressive, wide eyes. Though she was going to have to speak to 'Papa' about these unbelievably tall tales he was telling. They were practically giants! Maja, never one to sit idly by while her brother received all the attention, crawled up as well. 

"Now where was I . . . Ah!" she put a finger to Maja's lips just as they parted for speech. "Besides these numerous lacks---the girl had somehow managed to call to her hand unlimited paths, in a world that knew no other way."

"But," came a slightly accented voice from the threshold, "with so many paths---this enchanting young mortal needed a little direction."

"*_She* needed direction_?" Sarah hissed.

He swept to her side in a flourish of glittering lace and velvet, leaned down and kissed her cheek. The flashing annoyance in her eyes prompted a sudden mischievous curve to his lips. He then fell into the seat across from the adoring eyes of the children, never failing to make the chair and gravity bend to his will. Sarah wanted to be irritated by this wedding of setting and individual, but it was one of the many things she secretly loved about him.

Auberon immediately untangled himself from her arms and pounced upon his father. Maja stayed put, warm and content where she was.

"Father, didn't you ride Gauvin du Jura?"

Jareth shot a look to his wife, not failing to grasp her disapproval. And of course, she in turn did not miss his amusement. She quickly looked away to hide her smile.

"Well," he managed to take even longer by situating the small boy into the crook of his arm. When Sarah saw them all together like this . . .her heart longed for nothing else.

Jareth caught her continuing gaze and smiled, his head tilting to the side. And that was all it took to seduce the blood rushing up to her face. He was still the monster from her youthful flights of fancy, but now he had somehow stolen the part of the dashing prince as well. Sarah was not in the least surprised.

She shook her head, drew Maja closer against her side and tried to begin again. "Now," she stressed the word out, waiting to see if anything else would interrupt. When all remained silent as the dead, except for the distant twinkling of chimes, she was satisfied. She settled into the velvet amber cushions and called forth her next words. 

"It was a beautiful evening, much like this. The sickle moon was hovering over the horizon in a ghostly cloak of grey. The first star of the night had just appeared, dancing out of reach in compliment---"

"She certainly has a way with words, doesn't she?"

Sarah glared as Jareth whispered in the boy's ear, though his eyes never left her face. His head raised back up and he smiled innocently, a very interesting trick for Jareth.

She tried again. "That night a quiet stole over her house, and try as she might she could not sleep. And then, as she lay in conflict with the ceiling, she recalled a place that always calmed her fevered heart---an enchanted park. Obeying an urge she could not understand she took herself out and down to that park, stepping from moon beam to moon beam, shadow to shadow until the great swaying trees rose up before her.

"And amongst the dim flowers she spotted a twinkle, like a small star that had fallen from the sky. Curious as ever she cautiously parted all the silken petals and cool leaves to discover---"

"Was it a Lorialet?"

"Don't be silly," Auberon snapped at his sister. "Lorialets don't twinkle. Was it a Pillywiggin?" The boy looked to his mother curiously, that inherited pride making him appear much older than his seven years. Her eyes passed up to Jareth but he only wriggled his oddly arched eyebrows at her.

"It was a thread."

"A thread," both children cried in unison, then glanced at each other because they weren't certain what the significance was, but didn't want the other to know that they didn't know.

Sarah nodded. "A very beautiful thread, like a band of quicksilver, or roped moonlight. The girl stared down at it for several moments, thoughts flying across her face. Why did it shine so? Where did it come from? Was it . . .of her world? Finally she could stand it no more, reached and ran a finger down it, flinching, waiting for it to wrap around her flesh." Sarah paused and made a point to meet each of the three pairs of eyes that were staring at her.

"Nothing. The thread glinted in the half-light, smooth and soft and inviting closer inspection. Courage filling her breast and she picked it up, twirled it between her delicate fingers. Nothing, but its beauty, so she took back to her walking, winding the thread as she went and wondering where the other end lay.

"Before she knew it she had walked into the deeper edge of twenty minutes and still had not come to an end. But while her thoughts had been away too many changes to count had been occurring around her. Moonlight had phased into filtering sunlight. The quiet evening had turned into birds' song. Sensing something odd her eyes raised, and then widened." 

Sarah took a filling breath and made sure everyone was hanging on her every word. Even Jareth, who had heard the story several times before, seemed to be waiting for her to continue. 

"Dashes of colour upon dashes of colour, lovely flowers crawling up trees. Wonder of all wonders---the girl had never seen such a garden before. Her feet carried her on, over a stone curving path, under arbors, arches, under a canopy of flowering branches and over bridges and secret glittering pools. Fountains of flowers, vivid islands, rich patchworks of colour . . .swift strokes of colour passed before her eyes in a dazzling display of enchantment. It spoke of privacy, seclusion, beauty, serenity, magic---A place you go to find oneself, or your dream-lover, hidden among the trees, soft petals in his hair. She gazed about her, feeling plain and insignificant in the face of such beauty." 

Jareth was clearly just as taken as the children with her swift words. Father and son shared almost the same expression. Sarah crooked a finger under Maja's chin and turned her face up to her. An unspoken understanding flew between them, tailed by amusement.

"Now, this mortal girl was not stupid. She knew she was no longer in the safety of her park, she wasn't even certain if she was in the same realm anymore. But all that crowded around her was just so breathtaking . . .she couldn't fear it yet. She smiled like a child up into ancient trees, sun broke through their branches and something like stardust appeared in the gilded light. She sighed in appreciation, the silver thread momentarily forgotten as she raised her hand to a sparkling gold shaft. Warmth crept along her skin, sent tingles up her nerves. And she knew . . .she was touching magic. 

"She absorbed as much of the scenery as she could, standing in complete silence. Then set off down the curving stone path again, following the silver thread and winding it as she went. Several more yards and the path began to widen, open. Directly ahead of her she could then see a small clearing, the shadows of reaching branches dancing over it. Large stones became natural seats and soft flowers became natural pillows. Amongst those impressive stones was an old-fashioned well with a canopy of sterling roses and accents of crystalline dewdrops. And beside that well stood a prince so fair, holding the other end of the silver thread in his kind hands . . ."


	2. Never So Kind

Title: Twice Upon A Time

Title: Twice Upon A Time

Author: Loki

Rating: R, mostly for language. 

Archive: if you want it, ask. I'm not in the habit of saying no. ^_^

Disclaimer: all standard ones apply.

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Chapter One: Never So Kind

Sarah stopped short at the sight before her. Jareth, King of the Goblins, was hunched over, pulling and straining with something she couldn't see. A dozen harsh words fell out of his mouth. There was a split second where her wits failed her and she thoroughly believed she could somehow blend into the scenery, and thus go unnoticed. But that idea quickly unraveled and she decided her best avenue of action would be to return the way she had came. 

But of course, her first step back was the one to alert him. His mismatched eyes snapped up, widening on her just slightly, then they fell to the growing ball of silver thread in her hands. Sarah was finally able to see what he had been consumed with. On the end of his little finger was a tiny silver bow, one that he was evidently trying his damnedest to remove.

To say that understanding came like a bolt of lightning would not be too far from the truth---for both of them gazed at each other in amazement, clearly struck.

"Oh no," he said. "No no no."

Sarah was making her own protests, shaking her head wildly from side to side. Sparkling sun fell through various breaks in the trees, streaked glowing light down her dark chestnut locks even as they swung about her face. 

This was not happening. The Labyrinth may have been real, but this just could not be. Please . . .

Jareth's thread-free hand rose to his forehead and he rubbed it back and forth, back and forth. She could very nearly feel the scope of his blossoming headache. But his hand dropped and he looked back up to her, studying her as if the details of her thoughts were written on her face. After such a blow it was entirely possible!

"Well, come here," he said finally, and to the tune of her once again rising surprise. He waved his hand at her beckoningly. The action was entirely impatient and precise, a sharp cut through the air. She felt the urge to go to him, but stayed put. After all, she knew better. 

"You are the most difficult creature," he growled softly, crossing the distance he had just requested she cross. He took the silver thread from her hand, much to her puzzlement, then wound it the rest of the way. Almost immediately the thread was gone, and instead he cupped in his hands a pendant. A silver sun with a long, fine chain.

"If this is the way it is to be . . .then let it be," he said. He raised the chain as if to slip it over her head, expression betraying nothing. 

Sarah, certainly wary of any 'gifts' he may happen to offer, ducked and successfully avoided the necklace all together. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

His eyes hardened and his mouth tightened noticeably. "This will not harm you, Sarah . . ." She did not see him move, had only blinked and found the thin silver chain already about her neck. "It will, however, make you my Queen."

It what? She stared at him, it taking a moment for the words to sink in. But when they did it was almost instantaneous. She ripped the medallion from her throat, flung it to his feet, and was running back along the stone curving path before he had time to react. The beauty of the garden had not changed, but it was useless now. She wanted only to return home, no more of his cruel tricks, his little games. If he followed, she did not know. Did not want to know. Her feet pounded over that winding path for what seemed like hours. She had no idea where she was going. She had hoped that going back would lead her home, but whatever had brought her to the Underground was a heartless master indeed. For all she knew---he had brought her back! It seemed more suited to his black humour. 

No doubt, as time progressed and she finally gave way to walking, she was utterly convinced of it. Soon the light began to dim and eventide pressed on the farthest horizon. She cast her eyes above, through breaks in the flowering branches and caught small slivers of the sky. Darkness was moving in so quickly. The moon was already a ghostly presence in the heavens, odd that it looked so much like her own. How long had she been fleeing? It seemed like hours. She felt faint, passed beneath one of the many arbors and nearly fell in her exhaustion. Please, she wished silently as she leaned her head against vine-covered lattice, please let me wake up in my own bed in my own home . . .

When she first awoke her arm was flung over her eyes, a last futile attempt to exile the growing light that was pulsing against her eyelids. Spider webs of amber played against her vision, momentarily stifling her attention. She was lying on her back with soft covers pulled up around her waist, a comforting warmth cradling her. 

"Another dream," she whispered, then followed it with a quietly mocking laugh that echoed from the corners around her. She smiled, pulled the cover tighter around her and sank into the plush velvet pillows.

__

Velvet pillows?

Her eyes snapped open and she twisted out of the bed, or tried to, but the sheets had managed to tangle about her legs and sent her crashing to the floor. She lay there, breath harsh and uneven, staring at a ceiling that seemed too foreign to be friendly. The stone-coldness of the floor warred with the thick heat of the sheet, but went unnoticed at the foot of bigger beasts to slay. The events of the hours before bounced from side to side in her mind, none ringing out clearer than the last wish that had come so fervently to her.

__

Of course, the fates were never so kind . . . 

"Good morning."

__

Evidently.

Sarah's o so attractive view of the ceiling was obscured by a slightly bemused face, one framed by glittering wisps of silvery-gold tresses. She very quietly covered her eyes and wished it away. But she heard him move, could almost feel the indistinct scrape of his boots against the stone.

She remained like that, still, with the palms of her hands pressed into her eyes. "Where am I?"

Oh, he was there and as real as she was. There was an almost audio quality to his observation of her---a noise that was hardly a noise and more of a tingling along her nerves. Like the magic in the garden. "Where am I?" she repeated, her voice rising louder but still amazingly calm.

"Tangled in my sheets." Amusement. Of course, her horrible predicament would amuse him. Why would she ever think otherwise? She very definitely removed _his_ sheets and stood up. Her plain white blouse was wrinkled beyond compare, it shouldn't have been a problem when faced with this world of fantasy---but beyond her desire for home was now a desire for clean clothes and a bath. Not in that order though. She flung the sheets to the mammoth bed and then turned her dark eyes to him.

He sat at a small marble table before a widely arched window. It was white marble with fine veins of colour, cold yet elegant. Light poured from the window onto silver trays decorated by various fruits. He picked up a peach and cradled his chin in his palm, smiled. "Hungry?"

"Not on your life. Now send me home." There was a growing ferocity in her eyes, an icy edge to her that was capable of so much. The least of all was standing up to him.

He sighed, placing the peach back amongst the others. "Sarah, it is not that simple. Especially now that we are betrothed---"

"Says who!"

To her annoyance he only shrugged, "You wear the crown, it is inevitable."

"I wouldn't wear your crown if you nailed it to my head!"

Of course, he laughed. Laughed at the hostility that was bubbling up inside her, laughed at the determined snap to her eyes. He pointed at her breast and said, "You wear it already."

Sarah's hands rose immediately and she found what she had been dreading. The touch of cool, smooth metal. She felt along the raised surface of the sun's rays, then clutched it in her palm. "You did this," she said flatly. "You put this on me while I was sleeping." She shuddered at the thought of him so close. Her so vulnerable. 

"I did not place it there, but it is a good place to be. If I had to choose one individual in all of the world to be at my side---you would be it," he smiled at that, an odd smile, as if he had been caught with words he had no right to.

She removed the pendant and took deliberate steps forward, for some reason counting them as she went. Seven steps and she was before him, seven steps and she dropped the pendant in his lap. He didn't look to it as it almost glowed in the spilling light; he stared up at her, face carefully blank.

"Send me home."

"Sarah Sarah Sarah," he said her name as if a child's. Though his eyes remained on her he swept the chain up and smoothed it out. She did not fail to notice its unusually pristine and untangled state. How surprising. "This is your home now."

"Send," she snatched the medallion from his hands, "me," threw it in a wide, sweeping gesture of her arm, "Home!"

He didn't even look to see which wall it struck or corner it settled into, stared up at her with the same mask of pleasantness. To say it was infuriating would be an obvious understatement. But he stood and with his very presence forced her to step back.

"I did not bring you here, Sarah. I had no idea who would come when the Thread appeared---I admit that I wasn't nearly as surprised as I wanted to be," he paused a moment, but only long enough to present her with his most enigmatic smile yet. "You do not understand, but you will. I will send you home, Sarah, but you and I both know this is far from over."

She did not get to respond. His hand waved through the air and in the next instant she found herself glaring heatedly at her bedroom wall. She blinked. Then noticeably deflated. Her dance of joy would have to wait until the ice in her stomach melted some. Darkness filtered in through the window, though dimmer, she wondered distantly how many hours one night in the Underground was worth. No matter, she still had a couple hours left before school---and she did NOT want to spend them thinking about Jareth and her supposed 'betrothal' to him. Stripping off her clothes she simply left them where they fell, pulled her nightdress over her head and crawled into her own bed. Never so thankful to see it.

She closed her eyes, tried to sleep, but it proved more difficult than her decision. Jareth's words pulsed behind her eyes. Queen? Every little girl had visions of becoming a queen, of rising beyond the everyday and becoming something extraordinary. But a Goblin Queen? Rule at _his_ side and over such a motley crew? She'd rather not. Not that she believed any of it to be true, she quickly reminded herself. 

A small noise wove around her, the slight rustle of cloth sliding against cloth. It was unusual in the emptiness of her room, enough to gain her attention. Her eyes snapped open and then widened, but with annoyance and not surprise. 

"Jareth!"

He smiled down at her, balanced on the edge of the bed. He was clearly looking for a fight this time. At that point, she was ready to give it to him.

"Back so quickly?"

She didn't bother looking around, she didn't need to. She pushed herself up, let her head fall into her waiting hands and sincerely prayed that she was dreaming.

"Jareth," she said his name very quietly, very patiently through her fingers. Her voice a vision of insane calm. "I thought I asked you to send me home."

"And I thought I told you that this is not my doing."

"Back off," she snapped, kicking free of the coverlet and tossing it aside. Of all the things she needed---she did not need him hovering over her. Oddly, he obeyed. Stood and leaned against one of the posts at the foot of the bed. With smoothly precise movements he crossed his arms over his breast and managed to look winsome. 

"Sarah." Only he could say her name that way, seductive and condescending with a peppering of something indefinable. Something that made her feel small, but special at the same time. "I understand your confusion. I sympathize. But ignoring this will only make it stronger."

"You keep saying this is beyond our control, yet you don't seem too upset by that fact. Frankly, _your majesty_, I find that suspicious." She made sure to give him direct, unwavering eye contact. It was a challenge. "I want the truth."

"The truth," he smiled, retrieving a pocket watch from his waistcoat and flipping it open. "Are you sure you have time for that?"

"Meaning?"

"Time passes in your world. How long before someone misses you?"

There was that. Why was she having this conversation with him when there was nothing to talk about? Why indeed. "Let me see that," she clipped.

His eyes turned to her a moment, and it was such an odd curiosity, but he held the watch out to her by the chain. She rose up to her knees on the bed and grasped the silver watch as it swung free, stared into its face. Stared into her own dark eyes as they reflected back from a highly polished mirror. He then pulled the 'watch' from her loose grasp and re-pocketed it.

"How much time has passed?" She settled back, refusing to wonder why he carried around a mirror and not a watch. Vanity had its many representatives. 

"Not much, but you have gone missing for a little over an hour--"

"An hour!"

He nodded. "You looked so content, I didn't have the heart to wake you." But of course, the expression in his mismatched eyes contradicted the words that came out of his mouth. 

"Perhaps you would like to return tomorrow with your questions?" Glancing long enough to gauge her reaction, he shrugged. "I can answer them now . . .if you have no interest in the passage of time."

"No no. I've spent enough time here. Just send me home." 

He shook his head quietly a moment then sighed. His hand raised.

"And Jareth---"

He paused.

"Make sure it's permanent this time."

"That, dear Sarah, is beyond my control."


	3. Of All Charms

i would like to thank everyone who reviewed---it's because of you that this story will continue

i would like to thank everyone who reviewed---it's because of you that this story will continue! thanks!! ^_^ 

Title: **Twice Upon A Time**

Author: **Loki**

Rating: R, mostly for language. 

Disclaimer: all standard ones apply.

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Chapter Two: Of All Charms

Miraculously she appeared back in her room several minutes before the alarm clock went off. She was in no mood to make any attempts at school, but it seemed the lesser of two evils. The greater? Sulking about obsessing on her situation with the Goblins' current King. So she went to school, and she thought about him. And she wondered why, after two years, this was happening.

Her Government teacher droned on and on about things that just didn't seem important in the face of her current problems. She knew she needed to listen, if not for the sake of her grades then for the sake of her sanity. But for one fleeting moment she let the idea take root, that she was actually betrothed to a faerie tale king. One that stole babies and tormented young girls . . .and was strangely enchanting. 

What if it was true? She let her hands slide along the desk until they dangled off the end and she felt the cool wood against her forehead. An attempt to straighten some of the tangles in her mind, but nothing helped. What if it was true? But it couldn't be true. She was Sarah; she didn't marry Goblin Kings and rule over Kingdoms of fantasy. She watched her brother and tried to keep up her grades. Surely more than that went into the makings of a Queen? 

Something skittered across her desk and she lifted her head just enough to see, expecting the disapproving stance of her teacher. A folded sheet of paper rested perilously close to the edge, her name screaming out in muted blue ink. She fought sighing too obviously as she sat up and smoothed the letter out.

How were things in her world? Wasn't Ms. Payne being extremely long-winded today? Did she want to go shopping Saturday? And o, by the way, Jeremy liked her.

Sarah tried to work up some excitement for that revelation. She had been debating on asking Jeremy out for weeks now, but didn't want to ask without some small glimmer of assurance. And here it was. _So why didn't she care?_ Because she had bigger fish to fry. Jeremy could wait until she worked things out with Jareth. Sarah flipped open her notebook to a fresh, clean sheet, poised her pencil and wondered what she could write.

"_My world is split down the seams_." With that she folded the paper and passed it back to Ashley. Let her sink her teeth into that, she couldn't think about such unimportant things right now.

She was still thinking about it when eleven chimes rang out on the clock, she counted them silently as she stared up at the canopy of her bed. She would forget for awhile, but whatever it was distracting her would always bring the thoughts back. A moment of play with Toby only reminded her of the feelings she had when she lost him. Speaking with Karen left echoes of how self-centered she had once been, and who had suffered because of it. Her mind was too abuzz to let her drift into that shifting veil of sleep.

She sighed, rolled over on her stomach and felt the bed shift beneath her, shift in very odd ways. A bed was NOT supposed to move like that. She immediately shot up, or tried to, but strong fingers encircled her arms just above the elbows. Her hands flattened against some silky material. And just below that---someone's heart beat. It was still so dark, but the slant of the light at her side told her she was not in her room anymore. As if the body beneathe her wasn't enough. She started to twist, struggle, but he only held on and laughed. Why was he so in love with tormenting her! 

"Let Me UP!"

"Now, why would you wish to move from such an alluring position?" 

Her mouth fell open. Her surprise complete. She writhed and turned, tried to shove her knee up in a way she knew would not fail in grasping his attention. Unfortunately, in the next second she found her back against the feather mattress and him straddling her rather suggestively. Somehow he had managed to 'turn the tables', so to speak. 

"There are certain," he paused thoughtfully a moment, "shall we say---benefits? Yes, there are certain benefits to being my Queen, Sarah. Would you like me to show you?"

She shook her head quickly, tried to push the words out, any words that could force that sudden point of determination out of his eyes. Before she knew---before they could breathe into existence---he was leaning toward her and his silvery-gold hair swirled around his face. She watched him approach like some phantasmagoria, sharp but slightly blurred around the edges. A soft, warm glitter and cold plunge of shadows. In the last instant she swiftly turned her head aside, but it didn't help. His lips fell along her cheek, brushed her throat. He buried his face in the hair behind her ear and breathed in a deep, shuddering sigh. He shifted and the leather of his glove slid along her cheek. He was turning her face back, back to him. And then his mouth was pressing against hers, his top lip against her bottom. A prickling sensation danced through the touch---magic, for a lack of a more fitting word. Her breath caught and thrashed like a caged bird within her breast, and still it continued. With each movement, brush of his lips the feeling intensified. It was not unpleasant, but much more of it could prove fatal to a girl. Of course, that was probably what he was counting on.

"Jareth," she hissed into his mouth, without response. She slid her hands between them, trying not to think of how they were moving along the silky lace of his collar. She could feel the pounding of his heart, just where it was supposed to be. Why then was he so different from her when so much was the same? _Never mind that._ She refused to dwell on thoughts so dangerous, shoved her hands up with all her might. His weight lifted some, not much, but enough that she was able to writhe out from under him. Unfortunately, the stones rushed up to greet her once more. She was growing rather tired of this level of intimacy with his floor.

Jareth turned onto his side in one smooth motion and cradled his chin in his hand, the perfect picture of elegance and ease. Sarah quickly sat up and tucked her nightdress under her, not so gracefully. It may have been too late to outcry her innocence, but she'd be damned if she was giving up on modesty. Jareth glanced up and the movement seemed to bring light. Candles flared to life in the chandelier above her, one by one until the room was filled with a soft, inconsistent glow. It was amazing. It only reminded her of exactly what he was.

She stood up slowly, never taking her eyes from him. It was a look of utter distrust, one you give to only potentially dangerous situations. It didn't slip past him. His eyes seemed to settle somewhere below her chin, his face aglow with one of those half-mad smirks. And to her utter distress she looked down to find the medallion about her throat once more. But that wasn't the object of his intense study. Heat swept up into her face in a wild, tingling rush. Somehow, some time during their struggle the top three buttons of her gown had come undone, exposing an expanse of milky white cleavage. It took all her strength just to keep her hands from trembling as they moved over the buttons. 

"You are the most annoying woman to exist," he smiled as the confusion and indignation mixed and fought in her hazel eyes. "I used to say to myself 'I pity the man that falls in love with Sarah Williams, no one deserves such a fate.'---"

"What!?"

"---'But I envy the man she falls in love with'"

Her mouth snapped shut and she blinked, but the momentary lapse quickly dwindled. She did not forget that he was the King of all charms when the title served his purpose. She placed her hands very definitely on her hips, an exact vision of aggravation. 

"Save it for someone who cares." As the words passed her lips she knew she had said the wrong thing, but words said could not be taken back. _I know that so well_. A boiling anger filled his eyes and he was up and moving before she had time to think. He grabbed her around the waist and swung her, she screamed and clawed at his arms to try and anchor herself, but it was too late. She landed upon the bed in a startled heap with him on her heels. The same anger blazing---_but o she wanted to believe it was anger._

"You care, Sarah. Don't force me to show you how much."

"Stop it. Stop it!" But he paid her no more heed than before, bruised her lips with a blind fury that sent her already fluttering heart into mad dances. "Stop it," she whispered again.

"Give in, Sarah," he spoke breathlessly against her mouth, "Give in." His hands fell over the buttons, but didn't bother with such trivial things. One swift movement and the buttons snapped, cloth ripped. The noise seemed to fill the room, louder than it should have been---loud enough to awaken the panic that had, up until that point, been sleeping like a coiled snake.

"Please! Please, I can't," tears were brimming in her eyes, though not of fear or pain. The proximity, the feel of his breath spanning over her skin. The combination of leather and lace, the silky glide of his hair against her throat . . .he knew exactly what he was doing. It was like all the hells of the world combining into one moment of heaven. And she didn't want it! She did not want it---She did, and the salty tears flowed faster. How could she have not known this? 

__

Simple, so simple. The Law of Denial states that if something can be ignored, it will be. Of course, one forgets the shadow of the clock, and that all illusions tend to fade at the stroke of midnight. Desire or not, love or lust, what did any of it really matter? If it was anybody like Jeremy, anybody so mundane, then it could have easily been defeated or destroyed. But with Jareth, there was no way she could get close enough to do either. _Indeed. Tell that to the creature that is nuzzling my cheek. _She had to stop this. It couldn't be, she couldn't let it be. She had successfully escaped his control; she couldn't just hand it back to him now. In some cultures the title of Queen was just a prettier word for the King's personal slave.

Struggling hadn't freed her, neither had words. Maybe absolutely nothing could---so she relaxed into the mattress and tried to think of something else. The perfect actress. Of course, it was impossible to think of anything besides the warm, wet line of kisses falling along the base of her throat . . .She gave up on a distraction and concentrated on remaining lifeless, unresponsive. He continued for a moment, his mouth weaving down along her collarbone in tingling pressure. She swallowed back what would have been a high, keening whimper and forced every humming nerve into stillness. It was enough to finally grasp his attention. 

"What is this, Sarah?"

She closed her eyes and promptly denied the existence of an effected core within her. He seemed to find her particularly amusing. She was NOT aiming for his amusement.

"You never did know when the game was over."

The bed shifted and her eyes fluttered open cautiously. The glowing light fell against his back and robed his face in shadows as he stood over her. He offered his hand without a flicker, smiling as if he was always so trustworthy.

"A truce, my dear," his accent wove through flirtatious tones, an odd, twinkling light had entered his mismatched eyes.

"A truce?"

He nodded definitely, once up, once down. "Where actions fail us, let us use words."

Sarah's eyebrows rose in slight disbelief, but what could words really hurt, she wondered. _Don't answer that._ She ignored his proffered hand and drew herself up, straightened the white cotton gown over her legs in an effort to forget that she, Sarah, had been doing anything so lascivious with the Goblin King. The fact that the front was ripped open halfway and the buttons were god knows where did not help. She immediately pulled the gown closed and stared beyond him with dismayed eyes. _How much had he seen_? Too much. 

"I'm listening, so speak." The snap to her voice wasn't because of him, no matter how she wanted it to be. 

With a smile that certainly wasn't comforting he sat down at the head of the bed, swung his legs up and crossed them at the ankles. Sarah promptly scooted to the very end, absently wrapping an arm about the post. The other was left to clutching at the ruined front. 

"Let me seduce you."

She should have been prepared, prepared for any words that he threw to her feet, prepared to kick and stomp them into the ground. She gaped at him in silence. And when her mouth was finally able to obey . . .He held up a hand before she could speak.

"The truth of the matter is that you are Queen, rather you want it to be real or not." He nodded to the medallion and its presence suddenly screamed at her yet again. "That is your crown."

She raised the silver sun over her head. She stared at it for scarcely a moment then tossed it into his lap. "There's your crown. Find someone better suited for it."

"This cannot be changed by a mere flick of your wrist," he said. He seemed so tired suddenly, as if he had spent many hours in bone-deep thought. "But give me a week; let me show you what it means to be Queen . . .After that week you will still be Queen, but I will have a solution we can all live with."

"What solution," she asked suspiciously. 

"Always so distrusting, my little Queen," he laughed softly, the evidence of weariness dissolving into his amusement. It should have been an insult, but he seemed proud. "Sleep brings you here, have you noticed that?"

"Yes."

"And sleep will escape you as long we keep falling into this same argument. A few nights will slip by unnoticed, but how will you feel after a few weeks?" He paused long enough to let that sink in, then continued. "I can give you your sleep back, Sarah. Days in your own world, but every time you close your eyes you will settle into the Underground---"

"Can't you do something about that," she cried impatiently. She shot him a glare that said '_You have magic, use it!_'. He watched her for a moment then turned his eyes to the window. 

"No. All I can do is send you back."

"Then send me back."

"If I send you back whenever you appear you will never sleep more than a few moments at a time. What I'm offering you is your own chamber here . . .where you can come every night to sleep. You won't even have to see me if that is what you wish," he smiled very small. "All I ask in return is one week."

"And if I don't agree?"

His eyes turned to her, empty of light. "I don't _have_ to send you back."

She smiled pleasantly at that. "You really haven't changed at all. Always quick to threaten." 

He presented one of those wonderfully graceful shrugs that meant something and nothing at all. She would have given almost anything to know exactly what he was thinking. At the same time she was certain she would flee in the possession of such knowledge. "It is not a threat, just simple truth."

"And if I do agree?"

"I seduce you."

"Try to seduce me."

The look on his face was nothing short of arrogant, smug. The cat lounging on a bed of canary feathers. "Your answer?"

She just glared at him, unable to make her mouth move over the words. Nights sleeping under his care? It didn't seem as though she were getting a fair deal. But she supposed it was better than a permanent residence. Could she really trust him? Her eyes fell over him, studied him. No. Did she really have a choice? Not if she wanted to be honest.

She closed her eyes, took a deep, calming breath as if in wait of pain, then nodded. It was like turning your head so you didn't see the needle. She refused to look, to see the triumph she knew was reflecting off his flashing eyes. 

He clapped his hands together once, causing her to jump. "Very good. Now let's begin, shall we?"

She tensed visibly, her eyes wide on him with the urge to jump and flee like a frightened rabbit. What had she done? Well, her mind whispered back, anybody as stupid as you deserves what they get. She couldn't believe this all had started with something as simple as a length of thread. "What," she swallowed back so many words and began again, "What did you have in mind?"

He smiled. She didn't look at him for confirmation of the fact, but was just as certain. "That can wait," he whispered on a note of some promise that worried her much. "I offer you sleep now."

He had to word it like that, to remind her that she had agreed to play by his rules. "Sleep," she asked on a quiet hiss of air. "Where?" As if there was any way she could sleep knowing where she was and that he could be standing over her at any given time. 

__

Please.

He moved languidly to what appeared to be a very heavy wooden door. One of two that she could see, the other set in the exact opposite wall. She supposed the one he was pulling open was the way out. She had no earthly clue where the other went. Guess which one bothered her the most.

"You may sleep here. Oh, don't look so suspicious. I'm not in the habit of molesting unconscious girls. Good night," he bowed out, closing the door behind him with what would have been an innocent smile, if she believed in such faerie tales. Jareth was a lot of things, innocent not being one of them. 

She waited several minutes for the telling scrape and click of a lock, one that, to her relief, never came. She let go of a breath she didn't remember holding onto, then visibly slumped against the bedpost. He hadn't locked her in the room. She wasn't certain how she would have reacted when faced by that possibility. It would not have been good though.

After some time of staring, waiting, waiting for him to return and tell her it was all a ruse and he finally had her in the perfect position for his revenge---she sighed and blindly turned her eyes to a distant corner. She didn't believe for a second that his deviousness would just let her sleep. It seemed almost . . .too kind. 

Kind? She shook her head moderately; she just couldn't get that word to stick to him. She must be crazy to trust him this much, enough to sit here when she could be looking for her own way out of his castle and back home.

__

It's done now. You promised him a week and now you are bound to it. "You stupid ninny." 


	4. And Speak I Will

sorry about the wait between chapter two and chapter three

sorry about the wait between chapter two and chapter three! i took a little road trip and didn't get back until early this morning. but here it is---i'm posting it before i do anything else! hmm, let's see . . .there is a little Shakespeare in this part, a tiny smidgen of the 'R' rating (well, more PG 13, but it will be 'R' by the end. that i can promise you), and we meet the aforementioned Jeremy! am I giving too much away? anyway, i hope you like! if you do, and even if you don't---well, i'm sure you know the drill by now ^_^ enjoy.

Title: **Twice Upon A Time**

Author: **Loki**

Rating: R, mostly for language. 

Disclaimer: all standard ones apply.

~*~*~*~

****

Chapter Three: And Speak I will

Sarah woke from strange dreams. Even as the annoying scream of her alarm clock tore through her skull the half-remembered images formed, taunted her. _It would have been easy to blame last night on dreams._ To say that she had spent it not in the Underground, but in her dreams of the Underground. But that would be lying and lying didn't change the fact. Besides, her gown was still ripped and she could definitely feel the weight of her '_crown_' about her throat. She sighed, decided to get on with her day as she would any before it. There was school and babysitting, and a determined Goblin King to prepare for. 

It was . . .disconcerting to fall asleep in one place and wake in another. She would have to talk to him, she would rather be aware of the transition the next time he sent her back home. Oh, she silently moaned as she made for the bathroom, I don't think I like this new game of his. Seeing the medallion with her own flesh as its frame did not help. _O well, when you don't like what you see in the mirror---move on_. 

By the time the rest of the house was beginning to stir she was already prepared, sitting on her bed with the cool silver sun cradled in her warm palms. It was smooth, wildly soft, but always cold when away from her flesh. She ran a finger along the relief of one ray thoughtlessly. The sun had a face, a subtly feminine face with just as subtle smile. It seemed a shame.

Sarah slipped off her bed, laid the medallion flat on her floor and stared down at it a moment as it stared back. She didn't smile, of all she had tried, she was certain this too would not work. "Has to be done." She spoke with a grave finality, knowing full well that absolutely nothing _had_ to be done. Then she raised her shoe, bringing it done nervously on the sun. Nothing happened. She glanced about and gained courage from the stillness of the morning around her, stomped on the medallion with all the force she could muster. Part of her was enjoying it immensely. This bothersome part urged her to do more, to break more, but she swallowed it back. She hoped Jareth wasn't seeing this. She felt silly, and even a little guilt . . .With a low growl she kicked the sun under her bed. _Why should I feel guilty? I didn't ask for this!_

Done. With a sigh she went to her vanity, swept her long dark hair up into a haphazard bun. Then froze as something glinted. Her fingers slid in an almost numb calmness against the warming silver, and with the same precise calmness she raised it over her head and placed it on the vanity. The mirror reflected everything. Inside she was sinking; there wasn't even a scratch. Not even a smudge of dirt. She wasn't surprised. She just wasn't anything at all at that point. 

"Sarah?" That was Karen, knocking impatiently at her door as she did every morning. "You're going to be late if you don't hurry!" The same words, but Sarah glanced at her clock and realized that this time her prediction had a chance at survival. Sarah absently snatched up her books and was flying out the door thoughtlessly, not even pausing to see the knowing look in her stepmother's gaze. _As if! I wish she really did know---I'd like to see what she had to say then!_ She was lying, she hoped Karen never found out about Jareth and the Labyrinth. The very idea sent an odd shock of hostility through her. And a tinge of an emotion that was a little more green in colour. She cut the path off before her thoughts could follow it. 

It was three blocks to the school. If she hurried she could be on time, maybe have a few minutes to spare. She clutched her books tighter to her breast and sprinted down the sidewalk. She was forgetting something, she felt like she was forgetting something. _Funny how life goes on---even when you feel like all you can do is stand still and watch everything pass . . ._

She yelped suddenly, as she collided with something she had only caught a glimpse of prior. Her books tumbled, but strong hands grasped her arms and kept her from a similar fate. She was very thankful for a moment, but it didn't last long.

"Jareth," she hissed as he smiled down at her. And then she blinked, amazed at how bold he could be. Well, not really amazed. "Don't you think people will notice?" She stepped back and his fingers trailed over her arms, down, down until the leather of his gloves slid over her hands. She pulled her hands free. He was undaunted as ever.

"Notice?" the rise of his eyebrow was completely flirtatious. Being her enemy was one thing; she was comfortable with that role. This she didn't know how to deal with. When in doubt, chew your lip and glare mutedly. 

"I like what you've done with your hair, Sarah," he spoke close to absently, as if he were focusing his attention solely on those escaped strands. "It is quite fetching. Wild even."

She ignored him, there wasn't much else she could do. "I mean," she finally snapped, waving at his attire---which characteristically consisted of a combination of claret leather and lace the colour of aged paper, "People are going to look." It ended so lamely that it almost hurt her own ears just to hear it.

"Let them," he said, and something about him was very distant, very harsh and cold. Then he glanced to the books scattered at his feet. "Don't you have some place to be." Not a question---more of a comment. _How does he pitch his voice like that?_

She nodded silently, but it took her another moment before his words made sense. She forced down a flustered sigh and bent to retrieve her books . . .books that weren't there. Her eyes were wide and dull upon the empty concrete. And then she noticed his boot tapping impatiently. Her books were neatly tucked within his arms and an amused smile crooked his thin lips. She stood slowly, suspiciously. 

"This takes a little proximity," he said, then wrapped an arm around her waist and reeled her in. Her reaction was just a little too late. She shoved against his breast, felt the lace moving soft against her palms. Her force had no affect on him, but she stumbled back a few steps into a wall. 

"Damn you," she squeaked, her eyes swinging about. It slowly registered. She was standing at one of those comfy little school side entrances that nobody uses, and was really beginning to hate his habit of changing the scenery whenever she blinked.

"Come now, is that anyway to repay kindness?"

"Kindness," she muttered, shoving past him. She spun around just as quickly, jabbed an accusing finger in his direction. "You just like to throw me off guard. It makes you feel," her nose wrinkled in distaste, "big." 

His head tilted slightly and wind trickled through the odd lengths of his hair, he smiled. "Your point?"

Some people, she silently raged, you just can't insult. With that she went back to her irritated stalk, her arms swinging at her side. If she remembered correctly and the noise was any indication, the front entrance was close. She was halfway to it when Ashley spotted her. First there was a loud cry of greeting, then a bobbing head of auburn hair as the impish girl practically skipped towards her. Sarah stopped dead just about the same time that Ashley did. Her eyes had swung to the right of her, to the tall, pale boy with long black hair. He smiled shyly and Sarah felt herself smiling back. 

"Your books," came a slightly mocking voice. Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin. She could not believe he was brazen enough to follow her to the front entrance, in front of so many people. Sarah knew exactly when Ashley's attention lighted on Jareth. The blue of her eyes swam a little. She was afraid. Some part of her recognized that what she was seeing wasn't human, wasn't even of this world. But another, calmer part was fervently denying it. Of course, the more rational voice won. There was a polite twist to her mouth, completely forced, and then she said 'hi'. She seemed to be waiting for an introduction. 

__

Jareth, this is Ashley and Jeremy, my best friend and the boy I think I might be in love with. Ashley, Jeremy, this is Jareth. King of the Goblins. Yes, Virginia, there is a Goblin King.

Her eyes were innocent as spring skies, but those skies snapped into wild fury when she looked at the man who was just tall enough to be looming over her. "Thank you, Jareth" she hissed coolly. She very definitely took her books back.

"Jareth? That's an odd name."

Sarah's eyes widened at the veiled hostility in Jeremy's voice. She turned to him, it finally hitting. Their surprise attack at the front entrance, Ashley's bubbling excitement, the smile. Jeremy had smiled at her many times before, but that last one had been different. It meant something. Ashley hadn't only extracted information from Jeremy---she had given him some in return. 

"Isn't it," Jareth replied with that characteristic nonchalance to his voice. Sarah bit her tongue enough to feel pain shoot through her nerves, waited for the words she knew he was holding back. Time spiraled into a silent moment. The first bell rang. Sarah was never so glad to start school; she felt a rising grin and could do nothing to hold back its wave. 

"Time to go!" she chirped. She tried to push herself past Ashley and Jeremy, but Jareth caught her arm and pulled her back. For a moment she had been so caught up in the thought of escape that she forgot exactly what she was escaping from. And Jareth wasn't easy to forget. He pressed his mouth to hers chastely.

"I will see you later," he whispered low against her ear, and then all his electricity was gone. She watched him stalk away, and for a second out of reality she couldn't understand what was going on. Then it all came rushing back and just as suddenly she remembered her audience. She turned with a tired look to the confusion in Ashley's blue eyes and the obvious distress in Jeremy's.

"Who was that? I've never seen anything like him . . ."

Sarah was saved from all lies when the second bell rang out loud and clear. "Shit!" she cried, "I'm late!" She flew into a run, determined to put as much space between her and their questions. _What am I going to tell them!?_

She should have known it wouldn't take them long. Lunch took her to the library---they knew that. She knew that they knew that. She looked up from her book into Ashley's slightly rounded face. She was worried, interested, a little upset. That was okay, Sarah was all those things too.

"Who was that guy?" Ashley sat down across from her. The librarian watched them curiously a moment then went back to whatever she was typing out on the computer. Sarah was a regular, and because of that . . .so was Ashley. 

Sarah smiled. First and second period had given her ample time to come up with a believable story. At least, she hoped it was believable. "Jareth. He's just some guy I know." When lying always start out small and vague, build from there, let them come up with some of it on there own.

"Know how?"

"Do you remember when I auditioned for _The Taming of the Shrew_?"

Ashley grinned as some memory danced across her eyes, then frowned. "You met him at the auditions?"

Sarah nodded with a small smile. _I'm smiling---while I lie to you-ooo. _She felt like her lips were twitching, but knew better. Guilt was a bitch sometimes.

"Is there," Ashley paused, her blue eyes careful, "Something between you?"

"He likes to think so."

"What about Jeremy?"

"What about him?" All the forced pleasantness folded from Sarah's face. Ashley had betrayed her trust. Of course, if it weren't for the situation she was now caught in she probably wouldn't have minded. She and Jeremy would have converged at the front entrance and there would have been a mutual agreement to meet somewhere for something. _Too late for that now. _Sarah glanced down at the book she was holding and when she looked back up her eyes were quietly warm again. She had to reign in her anger.

"He likes you, Sarah. I told him you weren't seeing anybody else."

"I'm not seeing Jareth!" _At least, not really. Ye gods, am I? No. No, I'm not. We're just playing a little game. Yeah, with me as the prize. _Sarah felt a sudden urge to cover her face with her hands and hide. 

"So, what was that today, when he kissed you?"

Sarah blinked. "It was nothing. He wants there to be something, but he has to learn that he can't have everything he wants."

Ashley stared at her searchingly; Sarah didn't understand why she was so concerned. Then the memory of how intimidating Jareth could be fluttered behind her eyes. Forget it, she understood why. Ashley glanced toward the librarian then leaned forward over the table. 

"Is he stalking you?"

Sarah started to laugh. 

"I'm serious," Ashley hissed. "People like that are dangerous! And most of the time they only get worst . . ."

"Ashley! Stop it, Jareth isn't stalking me!" _No, I promised him a week. He's . . .courting me._ It was still too odd to think about. Jareth, courting her. Jareth, kissing her. Sarah shuddered suddenly, as if a slight wind had passed over the bare nape of her neck. _Now stop that!_

"Sarah," Ashley chided, you always know the people who know you best when they achieve that octave. "There's something you're not telling me." The look that followed told Sarah that she should be ashamed of herself. But oddly, she just didn't feel like it, maybe later. No, she remained silent and gave Ashley a somewhat meaningless smile.

And then Sarah took a deep breath. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Why she was so irritated by her best friend's concern. _Wait a minute, yes I do._ "Why did you tell Jeremy that I liked him?"

Ashley stared at her in disbelief for a moment, then gathered together all her powers of indignation. "I didn't!"

"Ashley." That was all that needed to be said for the guilt to fill those oh so blue eyes. The girl never could lie. Pity, Sarah thought, it's terribly easy. She choked on her own guilt like a bad taste in her mouth.

"Really, I didn't tell him! I just said that you wouldn't be averse to . . . um, the idea." The redhead's voice was practically squeaking, but then her small, round chin raised. She was stubborn. As Sarah's friend, she had to be. "What does that matter anyway? You like him. He likes you. I did you both a favour."

"Did you ever stop to think that I might want to take things at my own pace?"

Ashley blinked. Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "This wasn't a problem until that weird guy showed up."

__

Ding-ding-ding. Tell the lady what she's won! Sarah stood up and started in the direction of the many rows of bookshelves that cluttered the farthest end. Ashley followed thoughtlessly. Sarah had the book she wanted lose in her hands. She was hoping the migration would somehow change the nature of their conversation. But she had chosen her friends well, Ashley wasn't going to let the subject drop until she thought she had the whole sordid tale.

"So you met _Jareth_ at the auditions. Then what?" If you could fill a word with righteous contempt . . .Ashley said Jareth's name as if she were being forced to speak of something utterly indelicate. She wouldn't have said it that way in front of him, for some reason that amused Sarah to no small extent.

"Then we made mad, passionate monkey-love. God, Ashley! What do you think happened?" Sarah passed her hand absently over a row of books in muted, bland covers. Ashley stood at the other end and thumbed through some thick volume blindly. It was rhetoric, but that didn't seem to matter. 

"I think he hurt you," she glanced at Sarah, then back down. "I think that he did something unforgivable. It was written all over your face this morning."

"Oh really." Sarah tried to read some of the titles on the binds, but they may as well have been in Swahili. Letters and words swam together.

Ashley didn't seem satisfied with her response, or lack thereof. She shoved her book back into place and pulled out another. "Jeremy feels threatened, and if you could have seen the cold fury in Jareth's eyes you would understand why."

The problem was that Sarah already understood. She hadn't needed to see Jareth's eyes to know what was passing through them. And Jeremy had put up a brave front, but she knew he was no match. She was determined that Jareth wasn't going to win this 'game', but she didn't know how she was going to carry on with Jeremy and not put him in danger. She yelped as one of the books she touched thrust outward against her hand. It was so sudden that she felt as if her heart was going to burst. Ashley was at her side almost immediately.

"Sarah, what's wrong?!"

Sarah shook her head numbly, waving her away as soon as her breathing slowed. "Nothing. I almost dropped my book, that's all." Of course, Ashley didn't believe her, but what could she really say? Sarah tentatively pulled the book out, running nervous fingers down the rough texture of its cover. It was blue, but only barely. A faint, faded blue. A book that looked almost too old for such a young school. She glanced around, ignoring the questioning glint to Ashley's eyes, but saw nothing beyond the norm. Nothing but that which was cool between her palms, a tingling current that seemed to travel from cover to cover. _He_ had been here. It was _his_ touch coursing through it, of that she had no doubt. And like the 'game' directed, she flipped the book open.

Nothing so grand happened. There were no explosions; she wasn't sucked into the book in a dance of flashing colours. She steeled herself for the worst and stared down at a rather odd looking piece of paper. The kind you could only find at certain specialty shops: real parchment. She read over the black ink silently.

__

Say that she rail, why then I'll tell her plain

She sings as sweetly as a nightingale.

Say that she frown, I'll say she looks as clear

As morning roses newly washed with dew.

Say she be mute and will not speak a word,

Then I'll commend her volubility,

And say she uttereth piercing eloquence.

If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks

As though she bid me stay by her a week.

If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day

When I shall ask the banns, and when be married.

Sarah recognized the passage instantly, eyes falling over it again and again. Her part in Shakespeare's _The Taming of the Shrew_ had been no lie. This was Petruccio speaking of how he would go about taming Katherine the curst. Sarah had been ecstatic in her lead role, even if she could have done with a better ending. So Jareth had been privy to her little lie, she was not surprised or amused. _And nobody was taming her._ She racked her brain for all the words she had learned and spoken as Katherine, then found the perfect answer. _Oh, yes._ She smiled shortly.

"_Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak, and speak I will. I am no child, no babe. Your betters have endured me say my mind, and if you cannot, best you stop your ears. My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break, and rather than it shall," _she took a much needed breath and went on, _"I will be free even to the uttermost as I please in words_." 

Ashley was staring at her, more than questions in her blue eyes. Sarah slammed the cover on the offending 'letter' and smiled up at the redhead. "Just some lines I have to learn for Drama."

Jareth was a lucky King. He had the grace not to appear as she exited the school. That, however, did not mean she was in the clear. Neither was he. She kept her glare intent on the sidewalk and the streets around her, was prepared to fight if glitter so much as caught her eye. She had a very strong desire to drop something heavy on him and watch him squirm. Then he would know how she felt, with all the good it would do. _Sigh._ If this was his idea of seduction she felt very safe. All she had to do was sit back and let him remind her again, and yet again, why she did not want him. Prior internal confessions aside, she did NOT want him! _Stupid body_. 

__

I've been thinking about him too much. What would he say? Thank god that I'll never have to find out! Think about Jeremy, Sarah! Jeremy with warm, sweet eyes. Eyes like rich Sangria. Not cold like mocking oceans. With a smile that is gentle and doesn't make you feel as if the earth is moving beneathe your feet. Who can't speak a harsh word, can't cast a hateful gaze. Jeremy. Jeremy. Oh, Jeremy.

She felt the sting of tears that wanted to live, she fought so hard to kill them all. She would not cry. _Damn you, Jareth! Why do you have to ruin everything! I want to be with Jeremy! I want to write his name on my notebook and go on road trips with him during spring break! I want to get disgusted glances from other kids in the hall when he pulls me into a corner and kisses me! I want---I want these things! _She felt the wind pulling at escaped strands of her hair, but it was too distant to be real. She _did_ want those things, she _had_ wanted those things . . .She wanted _him_ so much. 

"No." She snapped down so hard on that thought that she could nearly feel it in her teeth. _I won't give in. To him. To me. To anybody._


	5. A Kiss Is A Kiss

Chapter Four (A Kiss Is A Kiss)

okay, i know i took even longer between this chapter and the last, but not by choice. i signed in all ready to upload---and FF.net was kind of dead :( i hope they get their problems straightened out soon. i would hate for this site to disappear permanently. *shudders* anyway, the 'R' rating is definitely more evident in this chapter, and this is quite a loooong chapter (compared to the previous ones). it's also unedited, so expect mistakes. i think that's everything. Oh! about halfway through i make a reference to _Alice's Adventures Underground_/_Alice in Wonderland_, it shouldn't be too hard to spot ^_~

Title: **Twice Upon A Time**

Author: **Loki**

Rating: R, mostly for language. 

Disclaimer: all standard ones apply.

~*~*~*~

****

Chapter Four: A Kiss Is A Kiss

"Well, if this isn't a surprise." She shoved Jareth's covers away and sat up. She glanced around the room, finding it oddly quiet. Not just that---still. When he was there, she could very nearly feel his presence humming in the air_. It's just the way he carries himself._ _See, no magic_. He wasn't there. She cocked her head a moment and wondered where he could possibly be. _Oh no, I am not going to think that way. I am not! I don't care why he's not here!_ She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to straighten some of the wrinkles out of her jeans. The gowns had to go, she wasn't taking that chance anymore. Besides, you don't appear before the opposite sex in your nightclothes. Even if he _is_ the Goblin King, especially because he is the Goblin King.

Light was coming in, pale and turning something so common as dust into showers of diamantine glitter. Sarah combed the tangles out of her hair with her fingers and approached the tall window. As yet she had not seen the view, there had been no time. She had been too busy defending herself and her virtue. That word stuck in her throat all wrong, like a bitter laugh. _Too odd. Still too odd_. Placing her hands on smooth stone she leaned out far enough to get a taste of exactly where she was. The stone was strangely cool beneathe her hand and the wind came in lazy currents, weaving through her hair and carrying the sound of distant chimes. She was several stories from the ground, but heights had never bothered her. Just below, kneeling at the foot of the castle was the Goblin City. Empty when she had came to it, it was now busy with whatever life goblins had. She watched it in quiet fascination a moment then cast her eyes farther, out over the Labyrinth. From the window she could see things that she had somehow missed. Dangers, but gardens too. And pools that tossed light back like mirrors. Everything seemed at ends in harmony. Just like its King, she mused silently.

Sarah perched expertly upon the ledge, unconcerned with the dangerous drop laid out before her. She studied the little creatures that scurried---skipped and tripped, picked themselves up and laughed at their good fortune. _What *do* goblins do? They seem happy enough . . ._She pushed herself out of the window and began to wander about the room. Without Jareth there she seemed at a loss for what to do._ You're just getting too used to arguing with him. Not a good sign, old girl. _Her absent hand trailed over the door, the curious one that she supposed led to any number of hidden secrets. _Well_. She twisted the knob and pulled with all her might. It was surprisingly light, wrenched open and nearly sent her tumbling back. But she straightened and peered cautiously in, ready to bolt if anything so much as glanced in her direction.

"Oh my." She didn't think such a room could exist in such a castle. She was so pissed off at Jareth for the appreciation she felt welling up. Clear water poured from the hands of a beautiful crystal statue into a pool seemingly lined in the same crystal. Stepping into the room and closer she suddenly realized that it was some kind of bath. She could see the drain nestled subtly in the bottom, carrying away the water even as the crystal woman draped in her crystal sari continued to pour. It looked _delicious_, to say the least. She was going to hurt Jareth for possessing such beauty. _I want to touch it_. Without further thought Sarah began tracing her fingers over the woman's cool features, her hands shook slightly and she felt a whispering pain rise into her throat from some place more mythic. It was so beautiful, and she hated being so affected. 

The water bubbled in mild tides. She turned her attention to it next. It looked cool and soothing and sweet, if appearances could be measured in such ways. She trailed her fingertips through it and found it was oddly warm. She glanced around but could not find out how this was. _I want to feel it_. But the opposite wall was proving to be rather bothersome. A long mirror was set, it seemed, in the very stone. Its mere presence unnerved her something fierce, for mirrors were always realms of magic in so many faerie tales. Why should she believe it any different here? She hurried into the adjoining room and returned with the sheet tucked into her arms. It took some work but she finally managed to cover the reflective glass, pushing the ends of the sheet into the very stone grooves that the mirror was cradled in. She stood and studied it a moment with her hands loose on her hips. No corner peaked through, all was well. 

Pushing the door closed she took her inspection further, walked around the statue and found what was just in her head. A silver tray ornamented with small crystal decanters of what she guessed were soaps and shampoos. They smelled heavenly of netherworld flowers and more exotic fruits, citrus and ginger spice. Was that a hint of lavender? She placed the tray down beside the sparkling pool, the crystal vessels casting rainbow-like shadows on the white stone. She couldn't believe what she was about to do, but had known she would as soon as the warm water had trickled over her fingers. She removed her clothes and folded them neatly before placing them against the door, which was a safe distance from the bath. She slipped into the water, under it and felt all her muscles unwinding to greet it. The bath was big enough that she could stretch every limb and not touch sides, deep enough that she could rest on her knees and have water up to her waist. She did none of these things, relaxed back and studied the crystal statue. 

Perhaps an hour passed, perhaps not. She groped for the scented 'shampoos' and chose one of an exceptionally pleasing shade of amber. Its aroma was just as agreeable, a mixture of what she guessed was honeysuckle and roses. She rinsed her hair and watched with simple wonder as the sullied water was carried away and replaced in a constant cycle. She could have stayed there hours, but it wasn't to be. With a decided push she stepped out of the water and watched it stream from her body. She didn't have a towel, but she would make do. She grasped an edge of the sheet and quickly draped it around her. It trailed the floor and revealed the mirror, but she felt safe. She was wrapped several times within its folds and completely concealed. Of course, that left the problem of getting dressed with the mirror bare and beautiful against the wall. _No problem_. She picked up her clothes, pulled the sheet over her as a sort of tent and carefully began pulling them on. Distantly she wished she had another change. They weren't dirty, but that wasn't the point. Clothes in place and the silver tray back where it was before, she stood before the mirror and herself. 

"Now how does this work," she smiled slightly. "Mirror mirror on the wall . . ." She stared silently for long moments, not bothering to continue, then turned on her heel and went back into the room. She made certain to close the door behind her and inspected the chamber critically. Besides the damp sheet that was wrapped and folded haphazardly in her arms, all was the same. She had half-expected _his majesty_ to make an appearance while she indulged in his bath. _Oh gods, if this is his room than that *is* his bath. I want my own bed now! I don't want to wake up in his anymore!_

She laid the sheet upon the floor beside the bed and sat down. Again the thought came: where is he? What's taking so long? And---why should I care? _Well, I don't_. She ran her fingers through her wet hair once more. For Jareth's room it didn't seem lived in, but she supposed he had a study and a library for that, etc. It was nice enough, and she loved the view. But she was getting bored waiting for the minutes to pass. Some seduction! It was in her understanding that seducing someone meant interacting with them, on some level at least. She stood and paced from one end to the next. She wanted to know where he was, why he wasn't bothering her. _ Stop that! Stop that now! The last thing you need is a relieved sigh when he finally does appear_. She ceased her agitated pace and swept to the window. The scenery had not changed, she did not know why she had expected it too. _I have to do something. I have to get out of this room._ And just like that the decision was made. She didn't even bother being cautious as she approached the door. She flung it open and stepped into the dim corridor, glancing one way and then another. _Queen, huh? Let's see my Kingdom then. _One way darkened, one way dimmed. _ I'll take the dark way because it seems more forbidding, and I've learned that the Labyrinth likes its games. _Just like its King, she mused yet again. 

"Maybe I was wrong," she said twenty minutes later. The dark hadn't given way at any point. It seemed to stretch on and on forever. There were doors that led to rooms, doors that were locked, even a door that had opened into another set of doors. She had left that one quickly alone, a soft light had pulsed menacingly around its edges. Her curiosity DID have limits. 

Soon the corridor came to a stop before four doors. She glanced between them, but they all faced her the same. Each had what looked to be an odd 7 seven carved into the very wood, not in patient strokes, but sharp, erratic ones. "Curiouser and curiouser," she absently echoed the words of yet another girl lost in a world of magic. _Come to think of it . . .that too was called the Underground_.

"Okay, which door reveals the beautiful maid, and which harbours the tiger?" She went to each door and listened. One held the songs of birds. Another whispered of fierce winds. Yet another muffled feral growls. And the last was silence beyond all else. The birds sounded heavenly, the silence---promising. But she swiftly dismissed both. _Too sweet, too convenient. The safest path is probably the most dangerous. Which would make the most dangerous . . ._She had already moved to stand between the winds and the growls. The problem was, they were both equally frightening. She turned one way and then the other. She tried to imagine the fierce beast that should accompany such snarls, the feel of heated claws ripping through her gut, but it was the wind that kept sucking her back. As a child, Sarah had once seen a tornado---miles, and now years away, but still one of her most distinct memories. She didn't know why it had so terrified her. Maybe it had been nature's reassertion. Maybe it had been the exact moment she had realized her mortality, and how utterly small she really was in the world. She still dreamed of that whirling, roaring wind, one of her two personal nightmares. The other? As odd as wandering about lost in a hotel that never seemed to end. 

The growls appeared to fade, as did her fear of them. She grasped the knob of the Gale, and with one final deep breath, wrenched it open. Immediately the wind swept out in a fury of noise and pulled her in, she screamed. Screamed as the winds swallowed her. "Jareth!"

Just as suddenly she was standing in the centre of Jareth's chamber. The abruptness of the change sent her off-balance and tumbling back, but before she could slip to the floor someone's arms tightened around her waist. She knew it was Jareth, she knew it was his arms and his breast that she had basically fallen into.

"You little idiot!" he shouted, sounding so much like the Jareth of The Game that it was nearly a comfort. His arms were tight---she almost couldn't breathe. And, as if he couldn't quite understand it himself, he let her go. Backed away. He regained his composure much quicker than she did. She watched the anger and impatience flicker in his eyes as he waited for her to come to terms with all that had happened in the last minute or so. With weak legs she stumbled to the bed and fell upon it, stared at the ceiling and remembered how to breathe. _Okay, it's just an irate Goblin King, nothing special. Right_. She wasn't certain if an explanation would work, maybe it would be safer if she just crawled under the bed and refused to come out?

"You can't expect me to sit up here for hours and be content with it!" When confronted with someone who truly possesses powerful magic---it always pays to piss them off. Sarah inwardly groaned. Why did he always bring the worst in her out? 

"And you can't just wander about and open any door that takes your fancy! Sarah, there are forbidden magics at work here that CANNOT be played with!"

She stared for what seemed like a pinch of eternity. "I'm sorry," she said finally, as his eyes widened. Sarah hated apologizing, and the idea of ever having to apologize to _him_ was particularly distressing. But he had seemed so shaken, so upset. Besides, an apology was needed. _Not to mention that disbelief on his face is quite refreshing._

He shrugged, turned and moved to stand before the window. "No harm done," he shot a meaningful glance at her, "this time." She watched him cross his arms over his breast and the light brought glowing contours to his hair and velvet sapphire coat. It seemed so soft, she wondered distantly if that were truly so. You could find out, came a foreign thought that had somehow made a home in her. _I could not! _But the damage was already done. She wanted to run her fingers over his sleeve, just to find out.

She didn't. That was far too dangerous. But the continuing silence was beginning to press in on her. She had to break it. "Where have you been?"

He turned only halfway from the window and to her, arms still clasped over his breast and the ever-present pendant clearly visible where the lace parted. He smiled, and that smile conveyed all those things she hadn't thought of. All those things such an inquiry implied. 

"Why," his eyebrows rose over mockingly bright eyes, "As King I do have duties, you know."

"Oh? And here I thought your duties consisted of stealing babies and tormenting young girls."

He laughed softly, his lips curving in amusement. Strangely, he didn't seem to be laughing at her. "Sarah Sarah," his voice came low and pleasant, "I haven't tormented you yet." If that was a threat, it sure didn't feel like one. At least not of violence. She swallowed and didn't care if he noticed or nary. The Goblin King had made promises of seducing her---she felt she had every right to be nervous. _I can be as uncool as I want!_ And with that she mentally stamped her foot. 

"Okay," she stammered, _I have something to say, I really do_. "There are a few things we have to get straight."

His head tilted to the side much the same way as a curious puppy's, but a second more and he smirked, did away with such delusions of harmlessness. "Is that so?"

She nodded thoughtlessly, studying the wall beyond his head before forcing her gaze back to him. _Now, Sarah, we have to work up some anger. Indignation too. That's right, here we go._ "What was that this morning," she hissed. _And what's that?! That doesn't sound like anger at all! Try harder! _She opened her mouth and called up as many insulting tones as she could---

"If I am to seduce you, Sarah, then we will have to spend some amount of time together. Though I do agree, things did not go quite as planned," he paused, eyes moving over her face. "You have given me a week of your time, but you are not giving me a chance." 

"I didn't agree to be agreeable, Jareth."

"True."

"And I don't appreciate you just dropping in whenever . . .you . . .want?" Sarah had very good reason to lose track of her words. Jareth stepped forward and they all flitted away on mercurial wings. "What are you doing," the syllables came from her mouth, but they might as well have been separate from her.

Jareth circled around her, but she did not turn to keep him in her line of view. Instead she stood and stared at the space he had previously occupied, as if it made more sense. He stopped somewhere behind her and picked up a lock of her hair, kissed it. "You have been in my bath, Sarah."

He made it sound like a bad thing, but bad as in full of so many possibilities. Sarah spun around and slapped his hand away. "So?" And then softer, "How can you tell?"

He smiled at that, truly a gift if the eyes hadn't been so wild. He grasped her shoulders and turned her about, despite her obvious resistance, and urged her to one empty wall. She stared at it a moment in confusion then tried to step away. She didn't like this game---not when she didn't know what it was about. He pushed her back and lifted his hand through the air, as he did something appeared. It was as if a veil had been lifted; the vision of the wall peeled back and standing before her was a looking glass. One of immense beauty and antique design, gold frame, high polish, gold and silver.

"How did you . . .?"

"A spell of concealment. There are several cast all over the castle." He spoke as if it was nothing, common, an everyday occurrence. That was part of the Labyrinth's charm, she supposed. Here she was something unique and strange. In her own world she had to shout to be noticed, and sometimes not even that worked.

"Oh. I didn't know that." She felt a touch weak suddenly, but quickly quelled it. She couldn't forget where she was, and with who. 

"You asked me how I could tell. Well, take a look for yourself," he waved at the mirror and Sarah followed. She looked exactly the same, near as she could tell . . .or did she? She peered closer at herself. Oh, it was there all right, subtle, but there. A fine gloss, flecks of gold. She thought it was glitter laced over her dark hair, touches of it here and there on her skin, but she soon realized that it wasn't. She stared hard at herself, trying so fervently to decipher what she saw.

She was so caught up that the next second barred her breath. She had blinked and found her reflection accompanied by Jareth. He had swept her hair aside and was kissing the bare skin of her throat, his hands splayed over her waist. Sarah gasped. Too much had happened in that space of a blink. Too much Too much. She couldn't remember when it began, but it was already hurtling on. His arms tightened about her waist, pulling her even to the heat of his body behind her. He took a step back, taking her with him. The veil of the wall fell into place, but it wasn't important anymore.

"What are you doing?" Her breath was coming in tight, little pants. She couldn't seem to get it to slow. 

"Oh, come now, Sarah," he spoke huskily against the flesh of her shoulder, "I know you're not that naïve." 

"The mirror . . .You tricked me!"

"If you will not give me a chance---then I must steal it when I can."

"No!" she thrashed with all her might. They were gaining on that huge, canopied bed and she was suddenly more afraid of it than anything she had ever faced. _ No No NO! _She wasn't afraid of it---she was afraid of what would happen if he managed to spread her out on it. Time seemed to sink away as the image surfaced in her mind, of all that could be---of passions and elation and endless dreams. _No!_ She drowned that illusion as soon as it formed, could not tell from where it had came. Certainly not her. She had never thought such things!

Jareth was gone. So sudden, so unexpectedly that she nearly stumbled the last couple of feet to the bed herself. Oh, he was gone from her but not the room, that much she could tell. She re-captured her breath, and only after did she raise her waspish eyes to him. He, of course, was unconcerned. He stood before the window and the light edged him. One hand was upon the table and he leaned upon that hand. Casual, elegant, amused---she felt some feral beast expanding in her veins, just dying to burst forth and claw that condescending smile from his face. Perhaps some of _its_ glare peeked through her eyes, his free hand raised and swept the gold hair back from his neck. He was taunting her. 

She said the first thing that came to mind, vehement, hateful . . .bruised pride and confusion. "Fuck you, Jareth!"

He smiled innocently. "Be mindful of your words, Sarah. They have a way of turning on you."

She opened her mouth to bite off more hateful insults, but it quickly snapped closed. All the many colours of what he had said sank in. She blushed, which she recognized as not a good sign. _Okay, we can admit that he's attractive, in a completely 'I'm-only-looking-and-not-interested' sort of way._ She instantly felt cheated. She had always heard that admitting something would make it 'all better', insert a healthy dose of sarcasm. _They lied. Obviously._ She didn't feel better, if possible she felt worse_. Dread. Yeah, that's what it's called._

He held his arm out to her and didn't try to pull back down his mask of innocence, didn't try to appear sincere. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the dangerous part. _Let me rephrase that, he seems to think *I* enjoy it._ His arm dropped when she made no move to even acknowledge him. 

"Well, if you are _content_ in this room . . ." he shrugged.

She twitched mentally. "No, no. I'll go." _I'll go anywhere, even with you---as long as you take me out of the goddamn room!_

He took her hand up with a smile, tucked it into the crook of his arm. "Then let us be off, my Queen."

"Um," she held back as he tried to urge her toward the door, "Where exactly are we going?"

"Are you hungry?"

She was, but there was no way she was going to eat anything he gave her. "No."

"Such a liar, but as you wish."

"Where are we going, Jareth," she persisted stubbornly, ignoring the fact that he had just called her a liar. It was the truth, what *could* she really say about it.

"Wait and see," was all he said, then pulled her along despite her reluctance. They took the way that dimmed and within minutes a wide stone staircase sprawled out before them. She was just a little pink in the face at that point, but Jareth paid her no heed and continued leading her along. The stair sparkled here and there, Sarah watched in fascination as what she thought was a goblin went scampering across the floor below. It was gone as soon as they reached the newel but she could distinctly recall the feather in its hat bobbing_. I will never get used to this place._

The castle looked much cleaner than she remembered, but she knew she had seen so little of it, and paid attention to less. Soon, though, it became clear that a tour of the castle was NOT in order. Jareth 'escorted' her out of his odd fortress, ignoring the fact that she was perfectly able to walk on her own and did not need to be pulled around by her hand. She kept telling him this too, but was quick to discern that she was wasting her breath. 

__

The Goblin City? No, that didn't seem their destination either. Sarah did make an effort to see as much of it as she could. She looked this way and that as Jareth pushed onward and chattering goblins ran, even dove to stay out of _*their*_ way. They cast fearful, respecting eyes up to their oblivious King, but curious eyes to her. 

"Jareth," she stopped suddenly and forced him to stop too or let go. He stopped. "Where are we going?"

"What, and ruin the surprise?" He smiled at her mischievously, tried to pull her along at his side. "I think not."

She wrestled her arm free then crossed them both over her breast. She knew that her tone was going to amuse him ten times to hell, but she carried through with it anyway. "Then I refuse to go." 

He shrugged, "Then I suppose we'll just have to," as he was speaking he raised his hand through the air. Sarah, having seen that particular show more times than she cared to---shot forward and grasped his wrist before he could finish it. For one moment he looked truly surprised, and his surprise surprised her. She forced it into a tight box.

"If I blink and we're not standing exactly where we are now . . .I AM GOING TO KICK YOU!"

His mouth twitched and she was swift to realize that he was trying not to laugh. "Then don't blink." His hand dropped loosely to his side. But it had happened already. There came a feeling as if the ground was shifting beneath her feet. Within a fraction of a second, the time it would take to blink if she had bothered, the scenery went rushing by so quick that it was nothingness and colours. Just as quickly it stopped. Vertigo swept over Sarah and her knees gave out, but that didn't keep her from seeing Jareth's grin as she fell into his arms. Unwillingly, of course. He steadied her against him, unaffected by his own magic. "But I must warn you, it goes by more smoothly if you _do_ blink." His arm loosened about her waist, but did not retreat. What was helpful only moments before had twisted into a situation more dangerous. His free hand raised and he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, leaned forward intently.

"Okay," Sarah said quickly, pushing free. Her heart was thudding wildly in the back of her throat and it, unfortunately, had nothing to do with the vertigo. "Let's see where you've magiced us this time." Her words came high and breathless, to her escalating embarrassment. Not far, the castle and Goblin City were still very close, but they were now standing on the bank of some crystal clear lake. Trees towered behind them and the sun dancing off the water made her want to approach it. All the tension seemed to drain out of her body and she knew it wasn't natural. At least, not where she was from.

"What's that?" She pointed to something moving just off the shore. A flashing gold, a hint of silver.

"Koi," Jareth answered from her side. It was a bland answer; he seemed to have dropped his games for the moment.

"That can't be right. Koi come from my realm, Ashley's mom has several in her pond."

He smirked at her, as if to say 'game on'. "Are you so certain that they belong in your realm?"

"They don't," she asked simply. So simply that Jareth seemed to be disappointed. 

He shrugged, knelt at the edge of the water and swept his gloved fingers through it. "Our worlds share many things, Sarah." He stared up at her, trying to add emphasis to what he was saying. It didn't slip past her. 

But she sighed and cast her gaze out over the water, to where the Koi wove around each other in dashes of silver and gold. Their beauty did nothing to dispel the despair she was now feeling. She didn't know why. "Jareth," she said finally, after they had remained so long in silence. "When this week is up nothing will have changed. I want you to understand that."

"Things are already changing," he said without luster. "You desire me. Of that much I am certain."

"You fascinate me . . .and I suppose I find that desirable. But it isn't enough for what you're asking. Have you even thought of all that I would have to give up?" she forced the words out though they made her uneasy. It was one of those odd moments where he actually seemed to be hearing her. Not just hearing, but listening. It was too rare to waste.

"Have you thought of all that you would gain," his eyes were upon her, she could just feel them willing her to look at him. "It's not as if I'm asking you to stop being you. I don't want that."

"What do you want then," she asked.

"I want a chance. Not to change your opinion of me, but to expand it. I am cruel, arrogant, fickle---I have no delusions about how I am perceived. But you cannot sum up my whole being with just those three words," he paused. "I think you could love me, Sarah, if you only gave _yourself_ a chance."

Though she was standing utterly still she felt her pulse raise into her throat. If they had been arguing she would have had so many responses at her command. But they weren't arguing, they were talking. She and the Goblin King were having a quiet---if not so pleasant---discussion. That limited what she could say since she didn't want to be accused of breaking their cease-fire. She finally gave it up, gave up the whole shaky conversation. "Is this what you wanted to show me?"

He took a breath, but did not try to force the issue. He wouldn't have gotten anywhere she was willing to go. "No. No, follow me." He stood and swept his hands through the air, once again inviting her to walk with him. All his amusement, all scheming flashes in his eyes and suggestive smiles---all of it gone. Just Jareth staring out of those mismatched eyes. No, not even that. F_ickle, indeed._ Sarah didn't fight this time, took his arm quietly and let him lead her. 

But even that bit of cooperation she could only take so far. When he seemingly took a step into the crystal water her hand slipped away from his velveteen sleeve and fell to her side. "You want me to go into the water," she asked with just an edge of sarcasm. He turned with a mild smile, careful, and backed up once more. Sarah gasped as he rose over the water on what appeared to be a transparent stair. 

"What . . .how are your doing that?"

"I am . . .does it matter how." Her wide eyes seemed to bring some of his humour back. "I know you, Sarah. You want to see the other side," he offered his gloved hand as she stood utterly dumbfounded upon the bank. "And I want to show you."

She was shaking her head back and forth, lips slightly parted as she stared at his boots, at him standing on the very air. She had tried so hard to accustom herself to all that this realm entailed: magic, illusions, macabre masquerades and poisoned beauty. She thought she had finally come to understand it. That not all walls were real, that innocence could have teeth and any path could vanish over the horizon. To see the ease with which Jareth settled into his sorcery sent all her understandings askew. 

Jareth frowned at her continuing silence, the way she remained utterly still but seemed to sway with the breeze. He stepped back down and took her by the elbow. "You have nothing to fear, Sarah. This I swear."

__

I wish I could believe you, I really do. She sighed, shifted on her feet and mindlessly studied some of the closer trees. They had very broad, spade shaped leaves. And they moved on the wind, seemed to sound more like the distant twinkling of chimes than the organic rustle she had come to expect. _Of course they would, it's absurd to think that leaves sound like leaves . . ._Jareth's fingers moved oh so slightly over her arm, bringing her attention back to him.

"I swear."

"Fine, Jareth," she didn't like the sincerity in his voice, so she answered it with annoyance and indifference, a neat trick if you can pull it off. "Lead, but if I fall I'm taking you with me. Remember that."

He laughed, so pleasant. "Of course, of course. I would expect no less." She linked her arm through his and followed him to the edge of the water. He was ready to go but she held back a moment to catch her breath, inclined a foot. The air WAS solid beneathe her, but she did not feel any better about it. 

"Don't look down," he instructed, "and pretend that this is any staircase you might have to climb."

"Won't work," she remarked shakily. 

"No, I didn't think it would."

They went slow, step by step, with Sarah practically clinging to his arm. Somehow she believed she wouldn't fall, that if Jareth had plans of hurting her---it wouldn't be in this way. She believed it . . .she just couldn't get her head to understand it. People, no matter how imaginative, did not walk on air. _Well, invisible stairs_. She wasn't clear on how far they were going, but they were well over the water when she forced Jareth to stop and let her re-learn how to breathe. He said nothing, watched the distant horizon and the sun-sprinkled water as she tried to look at nothing. Eventually they resumed. Jareth seemed patient, a trait she would never have thought possible for him. _Watch yourself, girl, soon you'll start believing it_.

The clouds rose up before them and Sarah felt dizziness spin over her again. The last she had seen clouds so close she had been 'safe' in a metal bird on her way to Seattle. She loved to fly just as much as she loved heights, but _this_ . . .this was no comfort. Were they going above the clouds? Maybe they'd touch the face of the stars? They stopped at the edge of the cloud and Sarah finally managed to force her eyes up. She couldn't remember what she had been looking at before, but she mentally stumbled at what appeared to be a tall gold-frame gate planted in the very cloud.

"You have got to be kidding," it was the first thing that broke through the surprise. She was always so eloquent in his company. He stepped through the arched gate, his hand slipping down until his fingers wrapped around hers. She squeezed them tightly, she was standing alone upon the air and she found it just a little unsettling. This was a big leap of faith on her part, more than he deserved, but she closed her eyes and stepped through. The mists curled about her ankles, scattered and wrapped and crept away. Sarah shivered at their icy caresses. But she screamed when Jareth used her captured hand to twirl her about.

"Open your eyes, Sarah."

The 'ground' didn't lurch beneathe her feet, in fact, she stood upon a bed of pale lavender-grey rose petals. This had not been the picture shown to her while standing on the other side, a rose garden in the sky. Many more gates identical to the first with rose-laced trellises edged the platform. The sterling flowers seemed in constant bloom. She watched them open, the petals unfold and fall, and begin again. The platform was covered in layers of pale grey petals; there was no ground or cloud visible beneathe their silken carpet. She approached some of the lattice and traced several of the leaves cautiously. The roses bloomed on indifferent to her. It was beautiful, spectacular, and unusual. Jareth stayed back and off to the side, eyes following her movements. Sarah knew he was judging her reaction, had brought her here to simply inspire warm and agreeable emotions. Sarah knew this and didn't care, smiled just the same.

"I know that asking 'how' would be pointless---but why? Why these gardens in the sky," she knelt and sprinkled handfuls of grey petals between her fingers. She looked up at him then. "Why?"

Jareth picked one of the roses and as soon as it broke from the vine its unfolding ceased, it froze in a state of half-bloom. He twirled it slowly between his gloved fingers then moved to stand over her. "Would you like to see why?"

She chewed her lip a moment then nodded. Her curiosity did have an end---that didn't mean it was an easy one to reach. Jareth made a slight gesture with the rose and instantly a wind came and pulled at the lengths of her hair. The petals scattered on the breeze and she watched in wonder as they drifted down over the lake and trees. "It's raining," she cried with excitement. She ran to the edge and came to a stop against one of the gates, her arm wrapping around a gold rail. Sure enough the small shower of petals fell over the Underground as crystalline drops of rain. She turned back to him with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, "This is amazing!"

He grinned, seemingly satisfied with the reaction he was finally getting. She leaned back into one of the trellises and smiled, her breast rising and falling just a little bit quicker than normal. The soft petals caressed her face, the cool leaves trembled against her skin, and the sensations only seemed to heighten as Jareth approached her. The lift to her mouth started to slide away, not so obviously, but her eyes followed him. She knew something dangerous when she saw it. His gaze danced over her face and whatever he observed seemed to please him. He raised the rose to her cheek and brushed it lightly down along her jaw.

"This will never change. Time will pass, years will pass and this rose will remain as beautiful as it is this very moment. I give it to you."

His words were so soft that she couldn't think very far beyond them. Her hand raised and wrapped around the offered stem, but he twined his fingers through hers and forced it back into the foliage. The lace of his blouse fluttered against her breast, his sleeve was velvet soft as he pressed near enough that his mouth hovered over hers. 

Her breath was moving even quicker through her lungs, her heart pounding faster. _He's going to kiss me. He's going to kiss me . . .and I'm going to let him---I want him too!_ Her eyes studied blindly the gold tresses that moved against his shoulders, she couldn't look at his eyes. You didn't do that. You never did that.

His lips smoothed over hers, light at first but gaining in heat and pressure. For the first moment she blinked steadily and unresponsively, though her heart threatened to choke her. But he fell against her, his free hand weaving into her ebony-brown hair as he tilted her head back and tried to deepen the kiss. Her eyes fluttered closed and she collapsed against the lattice and roses, her mouth moved against his. He hesitated curiously as she met his passion with her own and her indifferent façade slipped away. She pulled her hand free of his and wrapped both arms around his neck, managed to pull him even closer, close enough that she could feel the points of his pendant dig into her flesh. She was falling into the idea, falling into the movements of his hands as they slid over her back and waist. She gasped as soon as she felt the coolness of his gloves slip under her shirt. It was a jolt, such a jolt that she should have spun back into realization. But it didn't come until his hands roamed higher, thumbs playing over her rib cage in an enticing dance. His fingers began tracing the lacey lines of her bra and she caught it, attempted to still his hand but only succeeded in cupping it over her own breast. He seemed content enough with that change---Sarah's discomfort rose to even loftier heights as her heart beat wildly into his palm.

"Back," she hissed breathlessly as Jareth continued to consume her mouth. She could hardly think of the right words as they came. "Back---BACK OFF!"

"No," he replied just as quickly.

She shoved as hard as she could with arms that seemed willing to betray her at any moment, and Jareth finally gave. His hands and warmth slipped away. He spread his arms in mock-surrender, backed away, but the light passing through his eyes spoke of different stories. He wasn't taking kindly to her swift and erratic shifts. His head cocked to the side and his smile was empty and cruel.

"You seem a little flustered, dear Sarah."

She knew exactly how 'flustered' she appeared. Embarrassment rose in a mad fury of emotion and cut off all other, more grounded feelings. "Damn you!" She had meant the rage, but was left only with hurt confusion.

Jareth placed his hands on his hips, the perfect image of a vengeful King. He took very deliberate steps toward her. "You have finally revealed to me, to yourself, the extent of your desires. You can't hide behind your little indifferent mask anymore. You want me, Sarah," he accented each word with another step forward, forcing her back with a predatory pivot to his hips, "and it scares you."

"A kiss is a kiss," she replied steadily, fighting all urges to clap and demand an encore. It wasn't that difficult. "You were pushing it too far. Entirely too far."

"And I have come to the end of my patience with YOU, little girl! I have allowed you to come and go as you please, sent you back whenever your angry little heart demanded it, when all along I could have refused---"

"Oh, I suppose you were being," she felt the black-heat filling her eyes, her next word coming out on the tails of anger, "Generous?"

He screamed---a low guttural growl of frustration. Sarah had never seen Jareth in such a rage. Never. She was too surprised to be afraid. Numbness scattered throughout her body, dulled her senses and kept her calm, kept her from thoughts of darting away from such hostility. She did not need to---Jareth spun away and disappeared without a glance back. Sarah watched him go. Then it made sense.

"Oh no."


	6. The Language Of Roses

here it is

here it is! i was having a bit of trouble with this one, does it show? anywho, i love the reviews! They keep me writing! i am so grateful to everyone who took the time to let me know they like the story. ^_^ 

*rifles through her stack of papers and mumbles* okay, the warnings, the warnings. *ahem*---if you need adult supervision to see R-rated movies, or if you have trouble digesting situations of a 'sexual nature'---please GO NO FURTHER! Those of you left may proceed. ^_^ 

btw, I've been thinking of posting my first labyfic, as incomplete and stupid as it is. Just a thought, but would anybody be interested in reading it????

Title: **Twice Upon A Time**

Author: **Loki**

Rating: R, mostly for language, but clearly not all. 

Disclaimer: all standard ones apply.

~*~*~*~

****

Chapter Five: The Language of Roses

It took Sarah at least an hour to get up the courage to make a conscious decision to go down those stairs. She couldn't recall how long it had actually taken to go down. Without Jareth to hold onto it took much, much longer. It was also, no doubt, quite amusing. To see a girl, such as Sarah, scooting down the sky, testing each invisible step and pausing every few minutes to make sure she was still on something solid. She spent the rest of the time cursing Jareth. And just in case he was having a good laugh---making many gruesome promises. She did make it down, eventually. Now she was sitting upon her bed, exhausted, shaken, waiting for the time to move on so she could go to school. In her hand was the sterling rose, she hadn't brought it with her, it had simply appeared when she did. She wasn't sure what Jareth intended with that. Probably a reminder of exactly how he had over-powered her, and how she had let him. Sarah sighed, laid the flower gently upon the vanity and picked up her books. A little early, but it gave her time to think. Even if she wasn't certain that was a good idea. Karen's eyebrows raised as Sarah passed her in the hall, but Sarah moved on, only pausing at Toby's door for a moment. 

The walk to school was uneventful and quiet; her only company was the sound of her shoes crunching over the broken sidewalk. All the company she wanted. The front entrance was practically deserted, some girl sat upon the steps up, reading. They glanced at each other a moment then continued on with their own little worlds. Sarah found a cozy corner right outside the entrance, picked up _Titus Groan_ and flipped it open. It would be another twenty or so minutes before Ashley would likely show. She decided reading was a great way to make the clock turn faster.

"Sarah!"

Both she and her silent companion jumped as if struck. The girl, whose name clearly wasn't Sarah, looked at her expectantly, then to the pale, lanky boy trotting up the front sidewalk. Guilt was the first thing Sarah felt. But if it was because of Jeremy or Jareth---she couldn't tell. _I like Jeremy. Perhaps he's not as commanding in presence as Jareth, but that's a good thing. It is! _She closed her book and stood up, only throwing a momentary thought to her appearance. As absurd as that was, Jeremy had been her friend for a good year now, he had seen all her many costumes. 

"Why are you here so early?"

"Why are you?"

He shrugged, "I have a make-up test and it was either come early or stay after school."

"Oh." Insert an awkward silence that caused both to shift nervously. _Jeremy's my friend, this shouldn't be happening_. She glanced through strands of her dark hair and smiled, trying to set them both at ease. Of course, it only seemed to strain things further. _Damn Ashley, I could have put this off for awhile!_

"Yeah, well, I gotta go."

"Good luck"

"Thanks."

__

Well, that went well. The other girl was smirking blindly at her Psychology book, Sarah couldn't think of anything that might be so funny upon those pages. _Go ahead and laugh. Laugh-Laugh-Laugh. _Sarah retrieved the rest of her books and let her feet carry her away. She didn't know where she could go, but walking was definitely what she needed. The school was of moderate size, and she had never bothered walking the perimeter all at once. Unfortunately, for her, walking and thinking went hand in hand, one always led to the other. And she had much to think about, but oddly she kept flashing on Jareth kneeling beside the lake. A quietness she could never have believed of him, if she hadn't seen it for herself. She still found it hard to grasp. _The man has so many faces---how can I trust him if I don't know which one is real!?_ She hesitated, stopping to press her free hand against the slowly warming brick. _When has this ever been a matter of trust? I shouldn't even be considering it._

Just then a glint of pale lavender caught her eye; she glanced down to the ground to see the rose softly laid out at her feet. _How---how did it get here?_ She swept it up and cast her eyes about suspiciously, but knew he wouldn't be there. At least, not where she could see. He did enjoy all his little games.

She put the rose in her locker for safe-keeping, only to find it sitting, screaming colour upon her bland first period desk. She snatched it up to the tune of so many knowing glances. Some of them even had the brazenness to snicker. Second period break she deposited it again at her locker only to find another set against the grey metal, and the first still where she had left it. Three roses and the fourth likely at home. If Jareth was trying to embarrass her . . .he sure had her number. Second period and another on her desk, another at her locker. _Another and another and another._ Between dodging curious observers and collecting roses she contented herself with making plans for the Labyrinth's illustrious King. 

Staring at the pile of roses in her locker, beautiful, unnerving, mostly silver but not all. She felt tears rising, not of any pain, but because life was just too complicated sometimes. "Take this rose," she mouthed silently, tossing it atop the others. It was crimson. The colour of love, but red was also the colour of rage. It came from her enemy, her conquest, her pursuer, and supposedly her 'King'. 

"Hey."

Sarah slammed the door so hard that many of those around her jumped, including Jeremy. She smiled at him, didn't want him to see all the roses. But word got around worse than influenza so she was pretty certain he already knew all about them. He wouldn't ask.

"Hey yourself," she leaned against her locker. "How'd your test go?"

He shrugged, "Okay. What about you? How are you doing?"

"Just great," she chirped falsely.

"Hmm, well," he stared down at his shoes then up at her. It was obvious that he and his next words were fighting, neither seemed the victor. "Ashley told me about Jareth."

Sarah remained utterly still, she didn't think Jeremy would ever have to say the Goblin King's name. It threw her off her guard a moment, but she recovered. "Did she now. And what did she say?" She hadn't meant it as it came out, defensive and bitter. Jeremy had known her long enough not to be put off by her tones. 

"That he was nobody. She said," his rich eyes flicked to the locker then back to her, he appeared to be waiting for some sign. "You weren't interested in him."

__

Obviously Ashley knows and understands all. Wish I could have that certainty . . . Oh no . . .Jeremy was going on, but Sarah had come to a stop, like a wall in her mind. It had almost slipped between the cracks, the change in her thought patterns. The horrible revelation was that she WAS interested, she knew that now. Desire, as he said. _A cruel, cruel beast!_

"You know what," she hissed suddenly, cutting further words from Jeremy off. "I've had about as much school as I can stand today." She quickly opened her locker and shoved her books in, mindful of the roses. "I say we skip next period and go see the new auditorium." Auditorium---read theatre. The school had started construction on it over the summer and it was just about complete. Of course, it was off limits, but Sarah was in the mood to be on stage. It had been too long. It didn't take much to convince Jeremy to join her in her truancy, in fact he seemed eager enough. Though he didn't share her enthusiasm for the performing arts, he did understand her passion. Or maybe he didn't judge her because of it, she couldn't tell the difference anymore. So when she stood in the centre of the darkened stage and cast her gaze over the empty seats, he didn't say anything. He lingered about the edge and let her have her moment of silent reflection. She then let the small smile come. 

"Do you believe in magic?"

"What?"

"Magic, do you believe in it? In Kings and faeries and . . .and gardens in the sky?"

"No. I mean, there might be, but I don't know."

"I'm trying to figure out if I'm the lucky one."

"The lucky one?"

__

That's right. Is ignorance really bliss? It sure didn't feel like it . . .She threw her arms out and began to spin, slow at first, remembering all those times as a child that she had twirled about until the world looked different. Until all her frustrations unraveled and she felt as if the earth had fallen away from reality. 

She spun faster. 

She was spinning so hard that Jeremy was only a mass of colours against darker shadows. White and black and blue. _But this isn't bliss either_. Amongst the melding colours came a flash of gold where there had been none before. Sarah, whose mind had lost its grip on thought, reacted too quickly for even her. She lost her balance and met the floor rather hard, her head still spinning though she appeared to be stationary. Jeremy was at her side, asking her if she was hurt, but she was too busy looking for what she knew she wouldn't find. The bruises meant nothing.

"I'm . . .I'm fine." _Just my imagination, that's all. Just let it be my imagination. _She glanced up and met Jeremy's eyes, eyes like rich Sangria. He seemed so concerned, genuine. So full of thoughts and worries of her. Oh no, she was staring. And one didn't stare unless---

Jeremy kissed her. It was a nice kiss. No, it was a great kiss. So it didn't make her feel as if every nerve was stripped bare, and it didn't make her heart beat so erratically that she feared it would flop out of her breast like some fish out of water. It was nice, just the same. She felt his hands smoothing along her shoulders, massaging reassuringly. The ends of his dark hair brushed her jaw; he was moving her toward the floor, following her down. 

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" she gasped, fighting to push herself back up. It was all happening too quickly. He eased back, eyes curious on her but not angry. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Panic was rising within Sarah, dancing and spreading to the very tips of her fingers. It choked her of breath and made all words fall stillborn. Jareth had hurtled through her head, thoughts of him. She knew she had done nothing wrong, but she also knew that he wouldn't see it that way. His arrogance was so great---she shivered in its shadow. Perhaps, a calmer voice reasoned, perhaps he doesn't know. Perhaps.

"It's okay," she heard the edge to her voice that said the exact opposite, but prayed that Jeremy wouldn't catch it. Jareth would have. "I need to go." And she did, without explanation. Without further thought or stray look tossed to him. It was a miracle she didn't get caught pounding down the deserted halls, but once outside the door---nothing short of death was going to stop her. Jareth had never frightened her nearly as much as her speculations of him, on his delusions of betrayal. 

Her house was empty. With her father and Karen at work and Toby at daycare she was free to act as effected as she felt. _I'm fleeing from an idea, not even sure if there is any truth to it._ She stopped before her door and the very air about her seemed to deaden and cool._ There doesn't have to be any truth to it, Jareth just has to believe it. And what do I care what he believes._ She didn't think anymore on that and pushed the door in. What more needed to be said? She knew. She knew she did care.

Sarah was numb to the sight of the rose, lying so brightly across her pillow. Though her mind did hum over its detail, the fact that it was yellow while all the others had been sterling, orange, red, and even white. But mostly sterling. And even though there was an assortment of colour, the yellow seemed significant. Perhaps it was because of where she found it, and when . . .she sighed and picked it up gingerly between her fingers. As careful as she was she still had not been able to avoid the thorns, blood welled up. _Come to think of it---none of the others had thorns_.

Night came and Sarah fought going to sleep. She fought it as fiercely as she would any villain. Even as futile as she considered it, knowing that at some point she would have to face _him_. And she had no doubts that he knew. It was just a flutter of cold apprehension that told her this, but it was enough. When sleep did come, it came like the blooming of a flower---she didn't see it, it just was. She stared up at the canopy of his bed while the terror crawled into her skin. She turned eyes that might have been just a little wide.

Candlelight cut over his features in harsh lines and nearly solid shadows. He was sitting opposite her, back against the post and one knee drawn up casually. He tapped the yellow rose absently against his knee. He seemed so deep in thought that he did not recognize her, though his glare was just a little too narrow to be friendly. She sat up. It slipped past her notice that she was only a few degrees off of mirroring him.

"Did you know there is a language to roses?" he said without any luster to his striking voice. His expression did not change, even in some small way. 

Sarah shook her head. The terror was evaporating, but only because everything about him was unfamiliar. He seemed upset, but he seemed so calm. Which was true, she couldn't tell.

"I gave you a rose for every hour you spent in my Labyrinth, and one for every hour I cheated you out of. Blue roses," and the pale lavender/grey blooms appeared at her feet. "For royalty and enchantment---Seven for the time you ran. Coral," and they too appeared, four in number. "Desire, for the hours I wasted on petty indignation. Red for our dance. And white for the hour you defeated me." Her eyes skipped over the roses as she tried to digest what he was saying. Indeed there were thirteen, one more than a declaration of love, but the yellow made fourteen. He caught her eyes on it, twirled it slowly between his gloved fingers and paid no heed to the thorns. They were useless against the leather.

"Yellow," he smiled mildly, "For jealousy, deceit, and" he tossed it at her before she had time to react, it exploding into a rain of gold glitter. "Infidelity."

Sarah ignored the honey-glitter as it fell. "I have done nothing wrong. When your week is up my answer will still be the same. Why can't you understand that?"

"You love me," he said simply.

Sarah blinked stupidly a moment. "Love is trust, Jareth. I don't trust you." _How could I? You lie as easily as you speak. And you don't feel any regret._

"And I suppose you trust that _boy_?" Resentment danced under the melody of his voice. It made his accent bolder.

"Yes."

He didn't bother to look at her as he removed his gloves, finger by finger. It was such an innocent act. It worried her "But you don't love him."

She hesitated, didn't know why she had to explain anything to him, but could not stop. "No, but I like him---"

"And you desire me," he sat back with a contented smile. "Trust or not, you still want _me_, Sarah."

"It isn't enough. You know that!"

"It can be."

"I hate you!" They were automatic, useless words, but she was near to tears. Not so obviously, but she felt them trying to climb out of her throat. She didn't want to be having this conversation anymore. But Jareth's head cocked to the side and he seemed nowhere near the end of his words. She wished she could force him to an end and be done with it.

"Hate?" he replied curiously. He didn't smile but he didn't seem surprised by her exclamation either. Rather he became more attentive and involved than moments before. "Let me show you something." He spun a crystal out of the very air, silver-bright and curved in beauty. Colour sparked in its depths---an image began to form.

__

It was Jareth. And her. In the garden in the sky. Her face flushed red at the image of his hands slipping under her shirt, of her moaning helplessly into his mouth. She shoved the crystal away, but the memory was harder to dispel. It wove along her skin like the flush of beating wings. _He *would* show me that_.

"Is this your definition of hate?" He gazed steadily into the past among the roses, his face betraying none of the embarrassment that hers had. The crystal burst and his eyes raised to her intently, the candlelight made them shine oddly. _No, no. That's just him_.

"I don't know why you insist with this game. We both know how it will end," she said finally. 

"Is that so?" In that instant she didn't want to know what was going through his head, she didn't even want to guess. He watched her expectantly for a few breaths then shrugged, relaxed elegantly against the post. A study in stylish nonchalance. "Your resistance wanes, Sarah, and your desire waxes. You are in no position to be predicting the future."

"May be, but I know myself."

He laughed at that, as she glared. 

"Listen! I've already made up my mind!" 

"I suppose you're going to," he made some obscure motion with his hand, "run off with _Jeremy_?"

"This isn't about Jeremy!"

"No, it's about us." He smiled pleasantly, a smile she was learning to dread. It seemed that Jareth only smiled at the expense of someone else. "In fact, if I wished it Jeremy could disappear into the very air---"

"Don't you dare!" She was going to hyperventilate. The thought of harm coming to Jeremy, and because of her, was trying to push its way through spaces that were just too small. Maybe not –her- directly, but she couldn't see it that way. She believed it of him, that Jareth could do it and not be phased. He was capable of so much.

"And you are going to stop me how?"

If she had thought about it she might have remembered the wild behind his eyes, the danger that could be had in his hands. But, of course, she didn't think---she acted. Her veins filled with the boiling rage, edged by shadows of fears. They filled till it seemed all there was and had been. She shrieked wordlessly, a banshee's cry, and launched herself at him. She hadn't thought about what she _would_ do once she got a hold of him either, that would come second. "YOU!!!"

"Me," he laughed, intercepting her hands effortlessly as they flew at him with wounding intent. He wrestled her clawing fingers away from the seemingly frail silk-lace of his blouse. "Don't play rough with me, Sarah," he said, "because I can play HARDER," and with that he forced her back and down, pinned her against the bed. 

__

Not again, not again! STRIKE BACK! "Jeremy would never treat me like this!" she hissed. To her horror he didn't even hesitate, gazed down at her with the sweetest smile she had ever seen. It was so wrong. She could not see how all the cruel and beautiful lines of his face would ever form anything so sweet. His fingers caressed against her struggling wrists, but did not loosen. He gave the impression of caging a butterfly within his hands.

"And now we have solved the mystery of why you desire me so much and him so little."

"Fuck you," she twisted with all the strength she could call upon, but it still didn't seem enough. And that's when she realized part of her was enjoying his dominance. There were three voices in her being and all were contradicting each other. The first was in outrage, the second was in fear, and the third was relishing every brush of his body against hers.

"Funny," he leaned down until she could feel his weight pressing her into the mattress. His hair caressed her face as he laid his cheek cool against hers. His lips moved close to her ear and the mere suggestion of it made her gasp. "I was thinking the exact same."

She would have said more and worse things. Would have honed the nervousness suddenly apparent into all the most horrible curses she could imagine. Would have---would have, but couldn't. The very ability to piece together coherent words flitted away as he managed to force one of his knees between her legs. Even through the jeans it was an unheralded shock. She froze and the feeling stretched into all her thoughts. She had played and petted with a couple boys throughout the course of her life. Some exploration, some affection, but she had never allowed any of them this particular intrusion. She kept telling herself that it was reserved for more 'serious affairs'. He didn't move. Not at first. He was still and yielding above her---just as she was paralyzed with trying to describe the very essence of that touch, and all that accompanied it. He wasn't triumphant or amused when he finally did look down at her, his eyes filled hers with the knowledge that he wasn't playing anymore. That maybe he hadn't intended on this so early in their game, but he was in no ways sorry. He was no longer so casual, his breath was deepening and a fine line of moisture glistened over his upper-lip. She had a sinking suspicion that it had nothing to do with her struggles and everything to do with that sheer tint of darkness to his eyes. 

Here was the most dangerous thing to ever come between them.

His knee shifted, enticing a startled whimper from her throat. The heat that spread from that one movement broke through her paralysis and gave her the freedom to think again. As little and jagged as the thoughts were. But struggling only pushed him deeper against her, writhing made the feeling drive harder. Tears squeezed out of her eyes as she fought giving in to the appetites of her body. Once given, she knew this was something that couldn't be taken back.

"Please stop," the huskiness of her own voice filled her ears. Desire was what he chose to call it. She called it a beast, one that wished to consume her whole and leave her broken in the aftermath. One that she was very nearly baring her throat for. He didn't stop. She knew that he wouldn't. The futility of protesting almost sank in, but she shoved it away. If she came to believe that then maybe she wouldn't have struggled anymore. Maybe she would have folded against him and let him have his way. Maybe. Maybe. That third voice was praying in the language of maybes.

"Sarah," he breathed, and the tremor that wove through it almost undid her. He wasn't gloating or taunting, he was drowning in his own actions and her reactions. She could feel how very much she excited him, but it was almost too foreign to be real. His left hand moved down her body, over her breast and hip. She didn't even realize that one of her hands was free until he had unfastened her jeans. She grasped his wrist in a dazed panic, but was not strong enough. In fact, she didn't even seem to have a third of the strength that she knew was there. His cool touch slid over bare flesh and with expert pressure he began stroking her.

"No-no-no-no." The words passed her lips, strangled and thoughtless. Her panting and the twisting of her head from side to side nearly breathed them in. And soon they, too, stopped as she could hold back no longer. She let her mind float away into the movements of her body against his. Her free hand wound and pulled at the wisps of his hair as he kissed her throat. His fingers loosened until they were gone completely, she wrapped her other arm around his neck and realized with a sudden jerk to her stomach that he was all smooth flesh. She didn't know how or when, but his blouse and jacket were gone. He had somehow _magiced_ them away, but she was too caught up to focus on it for long. She tucked the observation away to be added to her list of 'all things Jareth' later. At that point he had finally found her mouth and was attacking it with a fever that was all drowning sensation. Indeed, when he did manage to pull back she was shaking---and it wasn't just because of that hand moving between her legs. He pushed up enough to work on the buttons of her blouse, slow and one-handed. He didn't rip at them. He didn't stop with his administrations. Instead they deepened, quickened. If he had paused she might have gained enough sense back to turn them onto another path, she might have fled all paths completely. She might have. 

No, he didn't even slow down until she was nearing the first _true_ climax of her life, until she was frantic with it. Writhing, panting, fingers curling and uncurling as her hips drove up to meet his hand. And with a final cry she collapsed back into the coverlets, both content and sorrowed by the fact that it was finally over. Now she could think back on how wrong it was. Now she could . . .she could . . .He was tugging on her jeans insistently. She grasped the waist just as they started to slide over her hips, but one swift jerk pulled them free. She kicked out only to have him grasp her leg and wedge himself between them yet again.

"St-stop!"

He acknowledged her demand with a glance, tossing her jeans aside. She watched as he raised glistening-wet fingers to his mouth and licked them clean, eyes insistent that she understand what he would not say. Her heart was beating so fast that she could hear its dull pump in her ears. He lifted her away from the bed and pulled on the blouse, fumbled with her bra until he finally managed to coax her limbs through the straps. With that he leaned over her, pressing into her already hypersensitive skin, and traced the lines of her face, her jaw, leaving cool moist trails over her flesh. 

"You are beautiful." It had been so long since she had heard his voice---it was something of a shock. Especially with its deep richness and the vibration of his breast against hers. A finger moved lightly over her bottom lip, from edge to edge, then he slipped it inside her mouth. "Let it be, Sarah. Stop seeing everything as a game," he took a shuddering breath, nuzzled her cheek and awakened a beast she had thought was finally satisfied. "I stopped playing long ago---when will you?"

She said nothing. To that question there were no answers. Game or not she never played with him. He was too deadly to not take seriously. And yet here she was, with the taste of their first passion together and a steadily growing thirst for more. She was beginning to lose all thoughts of resistance and caution. Maybe if her fight had been with him alone, but he had somehow managed to turn her own senses against her. They wanted what he was offering . . .and she did too. So she didn't struggle when he kissed a path from her throat down between her breasts, or when his tongue flicked out to taste the contours of her naval. His fingers slipped down over her flesh, felt along the inside of her thighs. A few tears gathered against her lashes as he probed her, pressing as deep as possible, spreading and enticing another alarmed whimper.

"Forgive me," he whispered, stroking his free hand through her hair and lightly against her cheek. Her mind was dancing over a thousand thoughts and none at all. She couldn't think of what he was apologizing for. The pain? She wasn't quite as ignorant as he obviously thought she was. She knew the pain, she knew it was temporary. In fact, in some ways she welcomed it---it was a touch of reality twined through what should have been a deep dream. It was a rose with thorns.

She welcomed that pain when he finally did enter her, lessened as it was, but not gone completely._ A pleasure in its own strange way._ She wrapped as much of herself around him as she could, took his warmth, gave back her own. She fell and fell and fell and fell . . .


	7. The Game Was

(A

(A.N.)--- ah! hi! i know some people are going to hate me, but don't think of this as a definite end. think of it more as the end of part one. a second part is in the works, but I'm taking a little break to begin (yet again) work on my first labyfic. the original first two chapters should be up shortly. read it if you so desire (please?!). but, because of its age, it is a little different in style.

i would like to thank all the lovely people that have reviewed, and those who have kept up with this story from the beginning. Thank you! ^_^

Title: **Twice Upon A Time**

Author: **Loki**

Rating: R

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Epilogue: The Game Was

Sarah rose out of sleep twice after. She couldn't quite recall how long she had drifted in that world between, or when she had finally given in to the warmth---the warmth that had seemed to seep from his body and into hers. Her first awakening was perhaps the longest. Every feeling and touch came back to her nerve by nerve. The first thing she noticed was the heat of Jareth's body, the delicious feel of it against her naked thighs and breasts. Then there was the push of his breath. And the beat of his heart beneathe her palm, as if she could pull it from his chest and cradle it against her own. She remained still and went over every detail of the present, then slowly wound herself back to the past. That brought an edge of colour to her face, a crimson rose in contrast would not seem unusual. 

All the times she had said no, all the times she had ended it as soon as it began . . .holding out, not for marriage, but something---_something_ special. Was this it? _He's a faerie-tale King. Even if this is all there is of his love, that alone is unique._ But that idea was not a comfort. It made her chest ache, enough that she gasped a moment. Special or not, one night could not be all there was. She wouldn't have given herself to one night. And she had given herself. 

She sighed, nestled more into the circle of his embrace. She couldn't think about that now, sleep was settling over her yet again. It didn't care about the tribulations of her waking mind, or the complexity of her situation. Sarah let it carry her away from consciousness and didn't look back. 

Her second awakening. Confusing and colder, despite the sun that spilled across the bed from the window. Jareth was sitting on the edge, half-dressed and chin resting thoughtfully upon one knee. He glanced to her as she raised, and she caught a glimpse of some storm of thoughts before his eyes turned back to a distance she could not see. She did not approach him, rested back upon her knees and let her hands fall passive to her thighs. She let the silence crawl around them, not understanding it, but knowing something was on its way. Her eyes grazed the rich blue coverlet, falling into their own personal distance.

"This wasn't what I wanted," he finally said, oblivious to the sound of her heart sinking into her feet. "The game was seduction." He looked at her then, "You were supposed to come to me of your own free will."

She didn't understand what he was saying---it was so far from what she had expected. His eyes turned back, maybe to the window, and he sighed as if he had received the exact answer he had perceived, and wasn't pleased. 

"I won't hold you to this week anymore. I release you from your promise. You will never have to see me again, so long as you wish."

"Yes," she whispered, "let's end this now." She slipped her hands over his bare shoulders, felt his muscles stiffen beneathe her touch. They were already so tense. Her arms wrapped around him and she laid her cheek against his. She felt the edges of her 'crown' dig into the flesh between her breasts, it dug into his back as well, but the slight pain was less real then the blind intention in her. She couldn't think of what she was saying or doing, she just was. 

"You played your game well, but let's be honest." _Yes, for once_. "Even you couldn't force me into something I didn't want in the first place." O, that was so true. It struck her how true it actually was. She didn't regret finally giving in. No, her only regret was that he had regrets. But still he didn't seem to understand what she was saying, so she traced his jaw with the tips of her fingers, forced him to look at her.

"Don't be sorry for what we did, Jareth. I'm not." She watched the distance melt out of his mismatched eyes. Eyes so beautiful---she wanted to tell him.

"You mean that." It wasn't a question or a statement, more of a revelation. She smiled at him, she couldn't help it. His voice was so far from the condescending King. Could she be his Queen? Maybe they'd be good together. Maybe they'd kill each other. She didn't know, but she wanted him. At least that much. She traced his lips lightly with her own, stroked his shoulders with the gentlest of touches . . .then yelped abruptly as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled her like a shark. She fell beneathe him, gasping for air as he laughed. 

"I win."

"Because I let you."

"Of course, of course," he grinned, lifting a lock of her hair from her shoulder and spreading the ebony-dark strands between his fingers. His voice made it sound as if she were speaking common knowledge, again and again.

"Or perhaps," she smiled suddenly, trying to ignore the fact that merely his fingers in her hair was enough to make her breathless. "I have won."

"How so?"

She continued to smile, eyes sparkling with a mischief that could nearly rival his. Nearly. She wasn't going to answer, and she made it evident. 

He kissed her. "Perhaps."

"Jareth," she spoke his name when she could, pushing it into his mouth and forcing him to hesitate. She knew where he was going, and was even just as eager. But she was curious, and she was hoping the old saying about curiosity and cats didn't work on soon-to-be Goblin Queens.

"Hmmm?" he resumed, though he moved down over her throat and even dipped as low as her collarbone. 

__

Okay, here we go. I may not want to know, but I have to ask. "If you loved me so much then why were you trying so hard to remove that Thread?

He raised up on his elbows, serious, but his eyes glittered with amusement. "And who said I loved you?"

She growled, fighting the beast inside her that wanted to rise to that light in his eyes. "Just answer the damn question, Jareth!" _I won't be turned from the subject, no matter how tempting the distraction. _

" . . .I was afraid it wouldn't be you."

Sarah blinked, in surprise at first, then to force back the stupid tears. "Oh."


End file.
